THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



ON 



NATURAL THEOLOGY, 

ILLUSTRATED 

IN FAMILIAR DIALOGUES, 

WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS. 



BY REV. T. H. GALLAUDET, 

LATE PRINCIPAL OF THE AMERICAN ASYLUM FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB. 



M O Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast thou 
made them all." Psalm civ. 24. 



flgT. 1ST! 
HARTFORD : 

PUBLISHED BY COOKE &c CO. 



1832. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1832, by 
Thomas H. Gallaudet, in the Clerk's office of the District 
Court of Connecticut. 



P. CANFIELD, Printer, 

HARTFORD. 



PREFACE. 



Some may deem it almost unnecessary, to go into an 
argument, with children and youth, to prove to them, 
that there is a God ; — a truth, which seems, too often, to 
be taken for granted, not only in the first stages, but 
through the whole course, of their religious instruction : 
how wisely, may admit of very serious doubts. 

It is a truth, on which all the doctrines and precepts 
of religion rest ; and, just in proportion as the belief of 
it is weak, or obscure, will all the other truths of reli- 
gion, fail to have their full effect upon the heart and the 
life. 

This, like other truths, is founded on evidence ; — ■ 
the more complete, therefore, and satisfactory, this 
evidence is ; the more thoroughly it is considered and 
examined ; the more it is made to form a part of the 
customary trains of thought and feeling ; the more dis- 
tinct and vivid the conceptions are, which it produces in 
the mind ; — the more uniform and operative, will be the 
belief of the truth which this evidence is intended to 
establish. 

This we find to be the case, even with regard to those 
truths which are the most common, and which receive 
the uniform assent of every intelligent mind. 



iv 



PREFACE. 



For the practical belief of truth, is very much 
strengthened by a knowledge of the nature and cer- 
tainty of its evidence, and by the habit of frequently 
recurring to this evidence. 

After attending to the various, and interesting, and 
overwhelming proofs of design, contrivance, and skill, 
in all that we see, within us, and around us,— who can 
fail to have the existence and agency of God, impressed 
upon his understanding and heart, with new freshness 
and force. 

Let these proofs form a part of the early associations 
of thought and feeling, among children and youth ; and, 
from the well known laws of the human mind, the im- 
portant truth which they establish, will so blend itself 
with the habitudes of the soul, that God will be seen 
in all His works, and his presence felt in the exhibitions 
which He is continually making to us, of His power, 
wisdom, and goodness. 

Besides, atheism, theoretical and practical, is on the 
alert, to diffuse its baleful influence. Already, in our 
own country, we have seen it attempting to make prose- 
lytes. Debating societies, public lectures, books, tracts, 
and newspapers, have been the instruments employed 
for its propagation. What parent can tell, how soon 
his child may be exposed to this awful delusion ? Who 
that knows the waywardness of the human heart ; the 
force of temptation ; the insidious allurements of vice ; 
the gradual encroachment which sneers and ridicule, on 
the one hand, and sceptical queries and doubts, on the 



PREFACE. 



V 



other, often make upon the conscience, especially when 
this conscience seeks relief from the wounds that guilt 
has inflicted upon it ; — who that considers these things, 
can fail to tremble, often, at the exposure of our youth 
to this contaminating influence of infidelity and atheism ? 

It has, already, in not a few instances, withered and 
blasted the fondest hopes of the anxious father and 
mother. If it does not always destroy, it may often 
paralyze, religious belief. 

And, if the faith of the youth is secure against its 
attacks, still, how much good, often, this very faith 
may do, in rescuing others. If it is thoroughly fur- 
nished with evidence, and arguments, and proofs, its 
triumphs, both in private and in public, may save a 
companion from ruin, and hasten the downfall of this 
bitter enemy of God and man. 

For these reasons, the author cannot but think, that 
the evidences of the existence of God, are quite too much 
overlooked in the early, religious education of children 
and youth. He could wish, for one, that they might form 
a part of the regular course of instruction in Sunday 
Schools, and of the religious reading in families. The 
subject may be made deeply interesting. Many of the 
facts connected with it, are as really entertaining as 
most of the incidents in the books of religious fiction, 
with which children have been so extensively supplied. 
They are vastly more instructive ; and tend, too, to 
form a taste for useful knowledge, which, if confirmed 
into a habit, is of unspeakable value. 



VI 



PREFACE* 



The author will only add, that having intended what 
he has written for quite young persons, he has gone 
into a minuteness of analysis, and a specification of de- 
tails, which, his own experience has fully convinced 
him, is the only sure mode of conveying distinct ideas to 
those, whose powers of generalizing are but, as yet, 
very imperfectly cultivated and developed. 



TO MY YOUNG READERS. 

I dare say, many of you who are not more than eight, 
or ten years, of age, will be able to understand this book ; 
- — particularly, if you are very attentive in reading it, 
and if you, always, ask some older person to explain to 
you a few things, which, at first, may be difficult to be 
understood. 

Those who are a few years older will, I think, find 
no difficulty, at all, in understanding it. 

You may not. however, know exactly the meaning 
of the term, Natural Theology, which forms a part of 
the title of the book. I will endeavour to explain it 
to you. 

Theology is an English word, made by putting two 
Greek words together, with a little alteration. Theo 
comes from the Greek word, Theos, which means God ; 
and logy, from the Greek word, logos, which means, a 
discourse, or speaking, or teaching, about any thing* 



PREFACE. 



vii 



All that is known about God, — arranged in order, so 
that it can be taught clearly, and distinctly, — is called, 
Theology, 

In the Bible, God has made known to men, a great 
deal about Himself, which they did not know before, 
and which they could not have learned in any other 
way ; or, what means the same thing, He has revealed 
the knowledge of Himself to them, in the Bible. 

The Bible is a revelation from God ; and from what 
it teaches us about Him, we gain that knowledge, which, 
when arranged in order, so that it can be taught clearly, 
and distinctly, is called, revealed Theology. 

Natural Theology is not learned from the Bible. It 
is all that can be known about God, merely by exami- 
ning the beings and things which He has made, without 
the aid of revealed Theology. 

The beings and things which God has made, and 
causes to be, or live, or grow, are called natural, to 
distinguish them from the things that men make. 

The things that men make, are called, works of art ; 
but all that God has made, we call, the works of Nature. 
By examining and studying the works of Nature, we can 
see, that there must be a God, who made, and preserves, 
all beings, and things ; and we can learn many things 
about Him, which will show us His great power, and 
wisdom, and goodness. 

All the knowledge which we can thus gain, about 
God, is called Natural Theology ; and it is this know- 
ledge, my young friends, which I wish, in some degree, 



viii 



PREFACE. 



to give you, in this book that I have written for you. 
I hope, you will be so much interested in gaining this 
knowledge, that you will seek for more of it, as you 
grow older, in larger books which have been written 
on the same subject, but which it might, now, be diffi- 
cult for you to .understand. 

I have written the book in dialogues, between a 
lady, whom I call Mrs. Stanhope, and her son, Robert. 
If any of you have read the Child's hook on the Soul, 
it is the same Robert, who is mentioned there, onty, in 
this book, he is supposed to be a few years older. 

That you may all make great improvement in useful 
knowledge, and especially in the knowledge of God, 
and of your duty, and learn, both to he good, and to do 
good, is the sincere wish, of 

Your friend, 

THE AUTHOR. 



The reader is requested to correct the following errors. 
Page 29, for, when it is thundering, 

read, where it is thundering. 
" 30, for, put the pencil, 

read, put the pencils. 
'< 37, for, thankful to God, in giving, 

read, thankful to God, for giving. 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
ox 

NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



DIALOGUE I. 

Mother. Did you ever make any thing, Robert ? 

Robert. 1 made a kite, once, mother, and it 
flew very well. Uncle John showed me how to 
make it. 

M. Out of what did you make it ? 

R. Out of paper, and sticks, and thread. 

M. How did you put them together ? 

R. With some paste ; and, then, I let the kite 
dry in the sun, and put the tail on, and fixed the 
twine to it, and it was all ready to fly. 

M. How long did it take you to make it ? 

R. I should think, almost two hours, mother. 
I spoiled one or two, before I got right. I think I 
could make one now, a good deal quicker. 

M. Do you remember that beautiful large kite 
which the boys raised, in front of the school house 
last spring ? 

1 



10 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. Yes, it was as tall as a man. It took seve- 
ral boys to hold it, when it was high up in the air. 

M. Do you know who made it ? 

R. Some one of the boys, 1 suppose, mother ; 
but I do not know which. 

M. Are you sure, that one of the boys made it ? 

R. I think so ; but perhaps some man made 
it, it was so large and strong. 

M. Are you sure, that any body made it ? 

R. Yes, mother, just as sure as I am, that / 
made the little kite that we were talking about. 
Somebody must have cut out the paper ; and cut 
the sticks right, and tied them together ; and put 
the thread round ; and pasted the paper ; and fixed 
on the tail ; or the kite never would have been 
made. 

M. Yes, my son, and the tail must have been 
made just long and heavy enough, or the kite would 
not have flown. 

R. I remember, mother, I made the tail to my 
kite too short, first ; and as soon as it got a little 
way up into the air, it began to go round and round, 
and fell down to the ground. It would not fly at 
all, till I made the tail longer. 

M. I suppose, Robert, that some boys have 
made kites so often, that they can make a very 
good kite at once, without any mistake. 

R. Yes, mother, I am pretty sure that / could. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



11 



M. If you could, my son, and make it quick, 
and exactly right, so that it would fly very well, 
you would be said to be skilful in making a kite. 
And as it flew finely in the air, it would show your 
skill in making it. 

R. Mother, it takes most skill to fix the tail. 

M. I suppose so. And you have to think be- 
forehand, do you not, of what shape you will make 
the kite ; and then, how much paper it will take ; 
and how many sticks there must be ; and how you 
will tie them together ; so as to make the kite of 
just the shape and size that you want ? 

R. Oh, yes, mother. I have to think all about 
that. For, you know, you can make kites of many 
different sizes and shapes. I should have to think 
a great deal beforehand, how to make a kite like 
that tall one which the boys had. 

M. Yes ; and, perhaps, you would have to get 
your uncle John, to think for you. 

R. I think I should, mother. 

M. Well, if your uncle John should think be- 
forehand how to make the kite, and tell you how to 
go to work, and do exactly every thing that ought 
to be done ; he would contrive the kite. When it 
was done, it would show your skill, in making it ; 
and it would show his contrivance, in thinking be- 
forehand Jtow it should be made. 



THB YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. Mother, I can contrive a little kite. Will 

you let me make one this afternoon ? 

M. Yes ; after you have said your lessons. 
What will you make the kite for? 

R. I will make it to fly, mother. What else 
should I make it for ? You do not think, I would 
make a kite just to look at. 

M. I did not know, Robert, but you would 
make one to show me that you could contrive a 
kite, and that you had skill to make one. 

R. But how could I show that, mother, if the 
kite would not fly well? No ; I should make the 
kite* on purpose to fly. And, indeed, I was not 
thinking at all about making it, to show you my 
contrivance or skill. 

M. Your purpose, or design, then, in making 
the kite, would be, that it might fly well. 

What was your design, in making that little 
boat, the other day ? What did you make it for ? 

R. My design was, that it might swim in the 
small pond, back of the garden. 

M. Did you make it, as you do a kite ? 

R. Oh, no, mother. You know a boat swims 
in water, but a kite flies in the air. 

M. Which did you have to contrive most about, 
in making, — the boat, or the kite ? 

R. I think, the kite, mother, for the tail trou- 
bled me a good deal, before I got it exactly right. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



13 



M. What if you should get your uncle John, 
to make a boat large enough to carry you ; and 
then fasten the string of the kite to it, when it 
was high up in the air ; and so the kite draw you 
in the boat, quite across the pond. How prettily 
you would sail. 

R. Yes, mother. But the kite would have to 
be a very large one, and uncle John would have to 
think a long time to contrive it, and to be very 
skilful in fixing it all right, so as to make the boat 

M. There is a little fish, which is a great deal 
more curious than such a boat and kite would be. 

JR.. Do tell me about it, mother. What is it 
called ? 

M. It is called a nautilus. Nautilus is a word, 
that used to be spoken by a people who spoke very 
differently from us, a great many years ago, and it 
means a sailor. 

R. Why ? does this little fish sail in a boat ? 

M. Yes, my son, and it lives in the same boat 
in which it swims and sails. 

R. What is the boat made of? 

M. The boat is a thin -shell, round and hollow. 
It is as thin as paper, and very light, so that it will 
float on the top of the water, just as your little boat 
does. The shell is a part of the fish ; and inside 
of the shell is the living part, soft and slimy, like a 
1* 



14 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



snail It is a good deal softer than the inside, and 
living part of an oyster. 

When this little fish wishes to sail, it raises up 
two short arms which it has ; and between these 
arms, there is something stretched, very thin like a 
web, which the wind blows, and so away it sails 
on the top of the water. 

It has, also, two other arms, which it lets down 
into the water, on each side of the shell ; and it pad- 
dles with them ; and makes itself go along faster ; 
and turns itself with them, and goes one way or an- 
other, as it chooses. 

You know if you fill your little boat with water, 
it will sink. So, when the nautilus, about which I 
have been telling you, wishes to go down into the 
deep water, it first draws in its two arms that have 
the sail between them, and the other two that it 
paddles with. Then it has a way of drawing in 
the w 7 ater, and filling all the inside of the shell, 
which makes it so heavy, that it sinks away down 
to the bottom, like a stone. 

When it wishes to rise again, it throws out the 
water through the little holes of which its arms are 
full, and makes itself light, and soon it rises, and 
keeps rising, till it reaches the top of the water. 

When the weather is pleasant, and the water 
smooth, the people that are in the ships on the great 
ocean, often see a great many of these little shell- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



15 



fish, or sailors in their boats, with their sails up, 
and sailing all about, as happy as can be. But if 
the wind blows hard, or any thing disturbs them, 
they take in their sails, and draw in their arms, and 
fill themselves with water, and away they go, down 
into the deep ocean, and are not seen again for 
some time. 

R. Mother, I never heard of such a curious 
thing before. It is, indeed, a great deal more curi- 
ous than a boat would be, large enough to carry 
me, with a kite fixed to it, so that I could sail 
across the pond. How large is the nautilus I 

If. A gentleman told me, who had seen one, 
that it was about as large as a bowl which he could 
hold in his two hands. But it was not shaped like 
a bowl. 

Here is a picture of one, as it appears when its 




sail and arms are all drawn inside of the shell. I 



\ 

16 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

could not find a true picture of one as it appears 
when it is sailing. 

R. Oh ! I wish I had a little nautilus, mother. 

M. Suppose you ask your uncle John to make 
you one ; he knows how to make a great many 
curious things. 

R. He could not make one, mother. He would 
not know what to make the shell of. 

M. Suppose somebody should give him the 
shell of a nautilus. Could he not make the other 
parts, and put them inside of it ? 

R. Perhaps he might make something like the 
sail, mother. But how could he make the two 
little arms that carry the sail, and the two arms 
that paddle, and make them stretch themselves out, 
and draw themselves in ? Besides, the little nauti- 
lus is alive. Uncle John, if he w T as to make some- 
thing almost exactly like the nautilus, could not 
make it live, so as to move itself about, and go 
down under the water, and rise up again, just as it 
chooses. 

M. Suppose, your uncle John had never seen 
a nautilus, or heard about one ; and should make 
something almost exactly like one ; and fix some 
little wheels inside, like those inside of a watch, 
and have a spring to make the wheels go ; and, 
then, wind it up with a key, and put it on the water ; 
and it should raise up its sail, and work with its 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



17 



paddles, and sail away, for some time, a good deal 
as a nautilus does. 

Would you not wonder at your uncle John's 
contrivance, and at his skill too ? 

R. I should, indeed, mother. But do you sup- 
pose, that any body has contrivance and skill 
enough, to make such a little nautilus ? 

M. When you was in the steamboat, Robert, 
you was in something like a great nautilus. Do 
you not remember, how many, many wheels there 
were, and iron things that moved up and dow r n, and 
many different w^ays ? 

I showed you the wooden wheels, like paddles, 
on each side of the boat, going round and round in 
the water, and told you, that it was the other wheels 
that made them go, and move the boat along. 

It must have taken a great deal of contrivance 
and skill, to make a steamboat ; and I think the 
man that contrived the steamboat, might also con- 
trive a little nautilus, with wheels inside of it, to 
sail on the water. 

R. You have forgotten, mother, that the steam- 
boat did not hoist any sail up, as the nautilus does. 
I think, that part of the little nautilus would be 
very difficult to contrive. And, then, I do not be- 
lieve any body could have contrivance and skill 
enough, to make it take in its sail, and its arms, and 



18 



TUB YOUTH'S BOOK 



fill itself with water ; and go down to the bottom, 
and afterwards, come up again. 

It would puzzle uncle John, and every body 
else, even the man that contrived the steamboat, 
to do that. 

M. Well, I think it would, Robert. And for 
any body to make a live nautilus, you know, that 
would be impossible. 

R. Yes, mother, and I am astonished at the 
wonderful contrivance and skill which we see in the 
nautilus ! 

M. So am I, my son. The more I think of it, 
the more I wonder at it. 

If you was to live a thousand years ; and study 
ever so much ; and make thousands and thousands 
of curious things ; you never would have contriv- 
ance and skill enough, to make any thing so won- 
derful as a live nautilus. 

R. Mother, nobody can make a live things that 
will move of itself 

M. That is true, Robert. But, it is almost time 
for us to stop talking. I wish, however, to ask 
you, first, one or two questions. 

You said, that you would make a little kite, on 
purpose to fly, and I told you, that it would be your 
design, in making it, to have it fly. 

If you had seen a nautilus out of the water, 
without ever having seen it before, or heard any 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



19 



thing about it, do you think you could tell what its 
different parts were designed for ? 

R. I think, I could, mother. The shell would 
look so like a little boat ; and there would be some- 
thing so like a sail ; and the two little paddles, on 
each side ; that I am sure, I should think it was to 
go and move on the water. I should know it 
would not be, to fly in the air, or to crawl on the 
ground. 

M. And, if you should see it hoist up its little 
sail, and put out, and move, its little arms, like pad- 
dles : you would feel quite certain, that the design 
was, that it should sail about on the top of the wa- 
ter — would you not ? 

R. I should, mother. 

M. Well, you see, my son, not only that there 
is wonderful contrivance and skill, in the different 
parts of the nautilus, but a wonderful design, too,' 
in putting these parts together, and having them 
act upon each other just as they do. 

If the nautilus had not a way of throwing out the 
water, and rising to the top, it could not sail on the 
top of the water ; and there would be no use in 
having any of its parts, so as to help it to sail. 

If the shell was not thin and round and hollow, 
it could not float, even after it rises to the top of 
the water. 

There would be no use, in its raising up its arms, 



20 



THE YOTJTII ? S BOOK 



and stretching them out, if there was not a thin, 
web-like something between them, as a sail, for the 
wind to blow against. 

And it would do but little good to hoist its sail, 
and be blown about, if it could not guide itself by 
the two little paddles, and so determine which 
way to go. 

And it would not be best for it, to come up to 
the top of the water, and sail about, if it could not 
make itself sink, and go down again, when there is 
danger. 

You see what a wonderful thing the nautilus is ! 



DIALOGUE XL 

Robert. 1 have thought a good deal, mother, 
about the nautilus. 1 want to see one, very much. 

Mother. If you should ever go on the ocean, 
in a ship, when you grow up to be a man, you will, 
probably, see many of them. 

But there are some things which you see every 
day, which are as curious as the nautilus is. 

R. Mother, a chicken is a curious little animal. 

M. Yes, my son ; and if you could look inside 
of a chicken, you would find a great many parts, 
quite as curious as the sail and paddles of the nau- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



21 



tilus. And you would see as much wonderful de- 
sign, in the way in which these parts are put togeth- 
er, and what they are made for. 

Look, too, at the outside of a chicken. Stroke 
its little feathers. How smooth, and light, and 
warm they are. What a good covering they are, 
for the little creature. How many feathers there 
are, all lying one way, and every feather itself is 
very curious. 

The mouth of a chicken is very different from 
the mouth of a dog or of a cat. It has a long bill, 
made sharp, and it opens so that it can pick up the 
corn and little seeds, very easily, like a pair of 
nippers. 

It has claws, too, just right for scratching in the 
ground, to find its food ; and for keeping fast hold 
of the branch of a tree, when it grows older, and 
goes there, to roost at night. 

I think, a chicken has as many curious parts as 
the nautilus. 

R. 1 do not know but it has, mother; and 1 think, 
it would be a great deal more difficult for any body 
to make a little chicken, with wheels inside, so that 
it could walk, and scratch in the ground, and pick 
up corn and seeds, than it would be to make a nau- 
tilus that would sail. 

M. It would be so, my son. 

But now, I wish to explain something to you, 
2 



22 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



that is more wonderful than any thing which I have 
yet told you, about the nautilus or the chicken. 

Suppose your uncle John could make a nautilus, 
with so many new and curious wheels inside of it, 
that somehow or other, these wheels would move, 
and, by and by, make another nautilus, just like the 
first. 

And, suppose there should be wheels, inside of 
this second one, that should move in the same way, 
and make a third ; and so on, till a hundred were 
made. 

R. Mother, you know that uncle John, or any 
body else, never could do that. 

M. But, only suppose that he could, my son. 
Would you not think that his contrivance and skill 
would be a thousand times more wonderful, than 
if he made only one nautilus ? 

R. Certainly, mother, I should. 

M. Well, Robert, there is something like this, 
with regard to the little chicken. 

You know, the hen lays eggs. Siie hatches 
them, and the little chickens come out of the eggs. 
When the chickens grow up, they lay eggs, and 
hatch more little chickens. And so they keep on, 
year after year. 

R. How many years ago, did the first hen 
live, mother ? 

M. Oh ! a great, great many years ago. Do 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



23 



you not think, that there was wonderful contriv- 
ance, and skill, and design, show T n in that first hen ? 

R. I do, indeed, mother. For that first hen 
laid eggs, and little chickens came out of them ; 
and, then, these chickens grew up, and laid more 
eggs ; and more chickens came out of them, and 
so on, and so on, till what a wonderful number of 
chickens there have been in the world ! 

M. Yes, my son. You see, that there is a great 
deal of contrivance and skill shown in a little chick- 
en, and a great deal of design, in the way in which 
all its parts are put together. You see, too, that 
all this contrivance, and skill, and design, was shown, 
still more wonderfully* in the first hen. 

Now, when you look at a kite, you know with 
what design it was made, and you see the contriv- 
ance and skill with which its parts are put togeth- 
er. You know, that somebody must have made it, 
and have thought, beforehand, how to make it. 
The kite could not have made itself 

So, when you look at the curious little chicken, 
or the curious little nautilus, and see the wonder- 
ful design, and skill, and contrivance which are 
shown in them, you know, that some one must have 
made them, and have made the first hen and the first 
nautilus, and have thought, beforehand, how to 
make them. 

It is your spirit, your mind, which thinks before- 



24 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



hand, which designs, and contrives, and directs 
your hands to be skilful, whenever you make a 
kite. 

It is GOD, the GREAT SPIRIT, the E- 
TERNAL MIND, who thought beforehand, 
who designed, contrived, and made every little 
chicken and nautilus, and the first hen and nau- 
tilus ; and the first things and beings, and all 
things and beings. 

When you see, my son, such wonderful skill 
and contrivance in the thousand beings and things 
which are around you, and the design with which 
they were made, and all their parts put together ; 
you know, certainly, that there is a GOD who 
made them, just as certainly as you know, that 
the tall kite which you saw the boys playing with, 
must have been made by somebody. 

G OD shoios Himself to you ; He shoios you 
His ivonderful knowledge, and contrivance, and 
power, and skill, and design, in your own body 
and sold, which He made, and in all the beings 
and things lohich are around you. 

R. How does GOD show Himself to me, mo- 
ther ? I do not see Him. 

M. Do you see me, Robert ? 

R. Yes, mother, I see you now r , sitting right 
before me. 

M. When I am asleep, can you see me then ? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



25 



R. Certainly ; I saw you last evening, mother, 
when you was so tired, and slept in your chair. 

M. Suppose, I should die, could you see me 
then? 

R. I should see your dead body. 

M. But the dead body would not be myself. 
It would not be your mother, whom you now see, 
and who is talking to you. My soul, or spirit, 
would have left the body ; and if any one should 
ask you, where your mother was, you would say, 
ycu hoped that she had gone to Heaven. 

Look at my spectacles. When you see them, 
do you see ?ne? 

R. No, mother, but I see you looking through 
them. 

M. When you look at my eyes, do you see 
me ? 

R. I see you. mother, looking through them. 

M. So, when you see my lips and tongue move, 
you see me, speaking to you with them. And 
when you see any part of my body moving, you see 
me, making it move. 

When I am awake, you see my waking body. 
When I am asleep, you see my sleeping body. 
And if I should die. you would see my dead body. 
But you cannot see my soul. 

It i9 my soul which is now looking at you, 
through the eyes of the body. It is my soul which 
2* 



26 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



is now speaking to you, with the lips and tongue 
of the body. When I rise and walk, or do any 
thing with my hands, it is my soul which does it> 
with the feet and hands of the body. 

My body, with all its parts, so curiously and 
wonderfully made, is a kind of machine, or a col- 
lection of instruments, which my soul uses, in dif- 
ferent ways, to do the different things which i wish 
to do. 

R. I remember, mother, you told me once 
about your spectacles being like another pair of 
eyes. 

M. Yes, my son. My spectacles are an in- 
strument which I use, to help me to see better. 
A man made them, and they are curiously made. 

So my eyes are instruments which I use, to see 
with ; and my tongue is an instrument which I 
use, to talk with ; and my hands are instruments 
which I use, to do a great many things with. GOD 
made my eyes, my tongue, and my hands ; and 
they are vastly more curious instruments than any 
man can make. 

R. So they are, mother, and they are a great 
deal better, too ; for they do not get out of order, 
as other instruments do ; and we can carry them 
about with us, without any trouble. 

M. Do you remember that curious machine, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



27 



Robert, which 1 took you to see, the other day, in 
the cotton factory ? 

R. I do, mother ; how full it was of little wheels, 
and a great many curious things, that kept moving 
so many different ways. 

M. Did you see what made it move ? 

R. No, mother. But you told me, there was 
a boy in the other room, turning a large wheel, 
which made the machine move. 

M. If you should go there again, and see the 
machine moving, what would you think made it 
move ? 

R. I should know, that it was a boy, in the oth- 
er room, made it move. 

M. So, when you see any part of my body, 
which is itself a very curious machine, moving, or 
doing any thing, you know, that it is my soul, (like 
the boy, in the other room,) making it move and 
do so. 

R. Yes, mother, only I can open the door, and 
go into the other room, and see the boy, but I can- 
not find out any way to see your soul. 

M. Neither would you see the boi/s soul. You 
would only see his body, and his arm and hand 
moving, which turn the machine. You say you 
see me, because my soul, or, what is the same thing, 
myself, is shown to you, through, or with, my body. 
You would not know, that I was in my body, if I 



28 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



did not show myself to you, by making my body 
move or do something. If I did not open my eyes, 
but lie perfectly still, and not move at all, and lie 
so, for several days, you would think, that I was 
dead, and that I was no longer in my body. You 
would not say, that you saw me. 

R. I begin to understand you, mother* 

M. Well, as you cannot see my spirit, only as 
I show myself to you, through, or with, my body ; 
so you cannot see GOD, the Great Spirit, only as 
He shoios Himself to you, in the wonderful things 
which He has made. 

When I open my eyes, and look at you kindly, 
you say, you see wie looking at you kindly ; and 
you love me, and call me your dear mother. 

When the sun shines pleasantly over the east- 
ern hills on you, and on every thing around you ; 
and you look at it, and rejoice in its cheerful 
light ; — think, that it is GOD who makes it shine i 
so pleasantly, and that you can, as it were, see Him \ 
looking kindly at you, and love Him, and call 
Him your Heavenly Father. 

R. Yes, mother, and when I see the beautiful 
clear moon, and the bright stars, I can think, too, 
that I see GOD looking down upon me from the 
blue sky. 

M. When I speak to you, my son, you love to 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



29 



hear my voice, and you say, that you hear me 
speaking to you. 

You sometimes hear the wind gently blowing 
through the trees, and making a pleasant sound 
among the leaves. 

Is it not the voice of GOD ? You do, as it 
were, hear Him speaking kindly to you ; and 
you must love Him. 

R. Mother, I sometimes hear it thunder, and I 
am afraid. Does GOD speak to me then ? 

M. Why not, my son, and why should you be 
afraid ? 

It is GOD who makes the forked lightning, and 
loud thunder. He directs the storm, and He can 
keep you as safe in the midst of it, as when the sky 
is all clear and pleasant. 

It is His voice that you hear in the thunder. 
You hear Him, as it were, speaking to yon from 
the dark clouds. He tells you, that it is He who 
thunders in the heavens ; that He is Almighty, and 
that you must fear to displease Him ; that He is 
Almighty, and that He can do all things as He 
chooses ; that in His hands you are safe, and 
that He will make you happy with Him forever, 
in that bright and beautiful heaven, away above the 
dark clouds, when it is thundering, if you will love 
and obey Him. 

R. Mother^ how many new and strange things 



30 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



you have told me ! How great and wonderful 
GOD is ! When will you tell me more about 
Him, and how he shows Himself to me in the 
things which He has made ? 

M. I will teach you about Him again, my son, 
very soon. In the meanwhile, remember what I 
have already taught you. 

And as you are learning more and more of 
GOD, you should ] desire to love Him more and 
more ; to think, and speak of Him more and more ; 
and to obey Him more and more. 



DIALOGUE III. 

Mother. What is contrivance, Robert ? 

Robert. It is to think beforehand how to 
make any thing. 

M. Can you tell me of something, which it re- 
quired a good deal of contrivance to make ? 

R. Yes, mother, your silver pencil-case. 

M. You are right, Robert. You see it has a 
little hole at one end, to keep the lead pencils in. 
And one part at the other end unscrews and 
comes off, so that you can put the pencil into it. 
Then, there is another screw, and a small wire> 
which pushes the little pencil out, every time that 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



31 



you turn the screw. It is very curious. 1 do not 
have to sharpen the pencil with a pen-knife, as I 
used to do. I think it is a great deal more conve- 
nient than the old kind of pencils, which I had to 
sharpen with a pen-knife. The man that first 
thought how to make it, must have had a good 
deal of contrivance. 

Now, Robert, tell me what skill is. 

R. I remember, mother, you told me, yester- 
day. It is, after any body has contrived how to 
make any thing, to get every thing ready, and put 
all the parts together, just as they ought to be, so 
as to have the thing well made, and to do all this, 
easily and exactly, without making any mistake. 
I think, there is a good deal of skill shown, in ma- 
king, and putting together, all the parts of your 
silver pencil-case. 

M. What do you understand, by design ? 

R. The man who contrived and made the first 
pencil-ease, like your's. mother, thought, what he 
would make it for, — to hold a little lead pencil, 
which would not need sharpening, and with which 
you could write a great deal more conveniently, 
than with the old kind. This was his design in 
making it. Design is to tltinlc beforehand ichat 
we will make a thing for. 

ML I am glad, my son, to see, that you under- 



THE YOUTH ? S BOOK 



stand, and recollect so well, what 1 have taught 
you. 

Now tell me, can a very curious and useful in- 
strument be made, to do a particular thing with, 
unless somebody first has a design ; and contrives 
it ; and makes it skilfully ; so as to have it just 
right for doing that particular thing 7 

R. Certainly not, mother. 

M. Robert, if you should see such an instru- 
ment, very convenient to do a particular thing with, 
having a great many curious parts, all put together 
just right for the instrument to be used easily and 
well, would you not know, that it must have been 
contrived and made by some very skilful person > 
who had a particular design in making it ? 

R. I certainly should, mother. 

M. Well, my son, I am going to show you such 
an instrument ; so curiously and wonderfully made ; 
with so much design, and contrivance, and skill, in 
it ; so much more curious and wonderful than any 
thing that a man can make ; that you will see in it, 
GOD, who designed it, showing His great wisdom, 
and power, and goodness to you. 

This instrument alone, is enough to convince us, 
that there is a GOD. 

R. Do show me this instrument, mother, 1 wish 
to see it very much. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



33 



M. Lay your arm on this table, Robert, and 
keep your elbow still. 

Now turn your hand over. Turn it back again. 
Turn it over and back again, a good many times, 
very quickly. 

Now bend your elbow, and raise your hand up, 
so as to touch your shoulder. Let it fall again. 
Raise it, and let it fall again, a good many times, 
very quickly. 

Now make your thumb and fingers move, as 
many different ways as you can. 

Now stretch out your whole arm as far as you 
can. Do not bend it at all. Swing it round and 
round, and make it go up and down, and to the 
right and to the left, as far as you can, and as fast 
as you can. 

Your arm and hand, my son, is the instrument 
which I was going to show you. 

Must it not be very curiously made, that you 
can make so many different kinds of motions with 
it. 

R. It must, indeed, mother ; do explain to me, 
more about it. 

M. I will, my son, and you will see how kind 
GOD is, in providing you with such an instrument, 
with which you can do so many different things. 

Did you ever think, how many different things 
we can do with our arms and hands ? 

3 



34 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. I never did, mother ; but 1 now begin to 
think about it 5 and to wonder at it. 

M. We can do so many things with our arms 
and hands, that I have not time to tell you about 
them all. 

Only look around you, and see the people who 
are busy and industrious ; how many thousand, 
thousand different things they can do with their 
arms and hands ! 

By the help of their arms and hands, people 
build houses to live in. They make clothes to 
wear, They plough, and sow, and reap, and ga- 
ther in the grain, and vegetables, and fruits. They 
prepare food, in a great many different ways, to 
eat. They spin, weave, paint, carve, engrave, print, 
and write. 

But this is not one half, no not one thousandth 
part, of what people do with their arms and hands. 

How helpless and miserable we should be, if we 
had no arms and hands ; or if they were made just 
like the leg and foot of a dog, or horse ; or like the 
leg and claw of a bird. 

R. All that you are telling me, mother, is very 
wonderful, indeed. I do not think that people feel 
as thankful as they ought to do, to God, for giving 
them arms and hands. 

M. That is true, my son, and, after I have ex- 
plained to you some of the parts of the arm and 



Oy NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



37 



hand ; and how they are put together ; and how 
you can move them, only by thinking to have them 
move, you will see still more why you ought to be 
truly thankful to God, in giving you such a curious 
and useful instrument, with which to do so many 
things that are necessary for your happiness and 
improvement. 

You must be very attentive, and patient, or you 
will not understand me. 

R. That I will try to be, mother. 

M. You have seen the bones of some animals, 
my son, have you not ? 

R. Oh ! yes, mother, I have often seen them, 
when we have had meat at dinner, or turkies and 
fowls. You know, you, sometimes, give me the 
leg of a fowl, which you call the drumstick ; but 
it looks only a very little like one. 

M. Well, there are a great many bones in your 
arm and hand, and you can feel them, through the 
flesh, with your hand. Here is a drawing of the 
bones in your arm and hand. 

You see, from the shoulder (a), to the elbow T (b), 
there is only one bone ; but, from the elbow to the 
wrist, there are two bones. 

The bone (c), is called the shoulder-bone. The 
bone (d), which joins the wrist, on the side where 
the thumb is, is called the radius. The bone (e), 
3* 



38 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



which joins the wrist, on the side where the little 
finger is, is called the ulna. 

You must remember these names, Robert. 

R. I will try, mother ; the shoulder-hone ; — 
the radius ; — the tdna. 

M. 1 shall first explain to you, my son, about 
the joint of the arm, at the shoidder. 

R. What is a joint, mother? I know where the 
joints are ; for I have joints in my thumb and fin- 
gers, so that I can bend and move them, a great 
many different ways. But the joint is covered with 
flesh, and I cannot see it. What is it like ? 

M. There are different kinds of joints in the 
body, my son. Some are something like the hinge 
of a door, which may be called, the joint of the 
door ; by the help of which, the door can be made 
to open and shut. You see it can move only one 
way, backwards and forwards. 

The joints of your fingers, and the joints at your 
elbows, are hinge-joints. 

By the help of them you can shut and open your 
fingers ; and, if your elbow is leaning on a table, 
you can let your hand go down to the table, and 
raise it up again, so as to have it touch your shoul- 
der. This joint, like the hinge on the door, can 
move only one way. 

Go, and look at the hinge of the door. You will 
see, that one part of the hinge, which is fastened on 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



39 



to the door, fits into the other part of the hinge 
w hich is fastened on to the door-post, so as to move 
in it. and thus let the door move. These two parts 
of the hinge, moving the one in the other, may be 
called a joint, and they are fastened together by 
an iron pin, or piece of wire. 

This iron pin passes through them, up and down, 
and keeps them together ; so that there is no dan- 
ger of the door's falling down, or getting out of its 
place. 

In the same way, in our bodies, where there are 
joints, the end of one bone fits on to the end of an- 
other bone, and is fastened to it, (not with a pin, 
but) by something like very strong, tough threads, 
or cords ; and, by something like a little bag, which 
goes all round the ends of the two bones ; so that 
it helps, with the cords, to keep them firmly to- 
gether, and they move easily, without any danger 
of getting out of their place. The ends of the 
bones do not quite touch each other. The end of 
each bone is covered with something softer than 
the bone, but not so soft as flesh. You sometimes 
see it on the bones of meat, at dinner, and it is 
called gristle. It is very tough and difficult to be 
broken, and is a little elastic, something like india- 
rubber. 

This gristle keeps the hard bones from jarring, 
and rubbing against each other, which would be 



40 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



very unpleasant. Besides, without this gristle, the 
bones would not move so easily, and they would 
be likely to wear away, we use them so constantly, 
and so much. 

You see, Robert, that God shows you, in the way 
in which He has made your arm and hand, His 
great wisdom, and power, and goodness. 

Even one single joint, which I have been tel- 
ling you about, shows the wonderful design, and 
contrivance, and skill of God. 

R. It does, indeed, mother. 

M. But, my son, there is something about a 
joint, which is yet more wonderful. 

R. What is that, mother ? 

M. What do people have to do to the wheels 
of their wagons, after they have run some time, 
and begin to go hard and slow, and make a creak- 
ing, unpleasant noise ? 

R. They have to grease them. And do you 
not remember, mother, that you put a little sweet 
oil into the joint of my knife, the other day, and 
how easy it made it open and shut. I could hardly 
open it, before. 

M. Well, my son, there is something a little 
like sweet oil, only a great deal more smooth, 
which is constantly softening those parts of the 
joints which move against each other, and making 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



41 



them slippery, so that they move easily and plea- 
santly. 

This joint-oil is made inside of the little elastic 
bag, which, I told you, goes all round the ends of 
the two bones, at the joint. The bag holds the 
oil, and keeps it from running out. 

If there is disease in the joint, and this oil is not 
made, the joint becomes stiff, and one bone creaks 
upon another, and feels very uncomfortable. 

Now, God has made our joints so skilfully, and 
so well, that the joints of most persons go safely 
and pleasantly all their lives, and never get out of 
order. 

And when we consider that there are about two 
hundred and fifty bones in our bodies, connected 
together by various joints ; and how often we 
move most of these joints even in one day ; and 
how many millions, and millions, and millions, of 
times, an old man has moved them, from the time 
that he was a little infant, — is it not wonderful, 
how long and how well they last ! 

What man could make a hinge of a door, or a 
wheel of a wagon, that would move so often, and 
wear so long, without having any thing done to it 
to keep it in order ! 

We have often to grease the wheels of our wa- 
gons, and, sometimes, to put in new spokes, and 
get new wheels made ; and we have to oil the 



42 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



hinges of our doors, and, sometimes, the screws 
work out, and the hinges grow loose, and we have 
to put them in order, or get new ones. 

But we take no care of our joints. We hardly 
ever think about them. God has made them to 
keep on going well ; and, in doing this, what won- 
derful design, and contrivance, and skill He has 
shown ! 

R. Mother, I am sure, that one joint is enough 
to make any body believe that there is a God, and 
that He made our bodies and souls. 

M. When you use your joints, then, my son, 
think of God, and how He shows Himself to you 
in your curious body which He has made ; and 
how you ought to love Him, for having given you 
such a body ; and how you ought to use it, and all 
its parts, in serving Him, and in doing good to 
others. 

But we must stop now. When we talk togeth- 
er again, I will explain to you more particularly 
about the joint at the shoulder, and, afterwards, 
about the other parts of the arm. 

R. Before we go, mother, may I ask you only 
one question ? 

M. Do, my son. 

R. Was there ever any body who did not be- 
lieve, that there is a God, who made our joints, and 

our bodies ? 



Oy NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



43 



M. There have been a very few persons, my 
son, who have said, that they did not believe, that 
there is a God, but that all beings and things were 
made by chance. Such persons are called atheists. 

R. What do they mean, mother, when they 
say, that chance made things ? What is chance ? 

M. If you should take two hundred and fifty 
little wooden blocks, of different sizes and shapes ; 
(just as many as there are bones in our bodies ;) 
and, without any design, throw them all together 
into a heap ; and they should, pretty soon, begin 
to move about, of themselves, and one block go 
towards some other block, and fit themselves to- 
gether ; and, at last, all be put in exact order, like 
the bones in our bodies, and keep so ; — so that it 
w r ould be very difficult for you to pull them apart, 
— then, all this would happen by chance. 

It might have happened very differently ; but it 
happened to happen just as it did : and there was 
not the least design, or contrivance, or skill, about 
it. 

R. I never could believe that, mother, and I 
do not think, any body else could. 

M. Atheists, my son, say that they believe so. 
But they must either be exceedingly wicked, or 
very foolish, to believe so. 

I will tell you more about them, and about 
chance, which they say made all things, some other 
time. 



44 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



DIALOGUE IV. 

Mother. I promised, Robert, to explain to you 
more particularly about the joint at the shoulder, 
and about the other parts of the arm. 

Do you wish to have me do it now, or would 
you rather go and play. 

Robert. I had rather talk with you, mother, 
and learn more of the design, and contrivance, and 
skill, which God shows me in my curious body that 
He has made. 

M. Well, be attentive, then, and I will begin. 

Here is a drawing of the joint at the shoulder, 
which I wish you to examine. 

R. Which arm is it, mother. 

M. It is the right arm, and only the bones are 
drawn. The gristle on the ends of the bones ; 
and the little bag which goes round them, and 
help to keep them together, and holds the joint-oil ; 
and the threads or cords that fasten the bones to- 
gether ; about which 1 told you, are not drawn. 

If they had been, you could not have seen the 
bones so distinctly. I will show you the drawings 
of them, at some other time. 

R. Mother, do you call this a hinge joint ? It 
does not seem to me, to look, at all, like a hinge. 

M. No, my son, it is not a hinge-joint. It is 
quite a different kind of joint. If it was a hinge- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



47 



joint, you would be able to move your arm, at the 
shoulder, only one way, right up and down. A 
door, you know, can be moved only one way, to 
open and shut it. The joint at your elbow, is a 
hinge-joint, and you cannot move your arm at the 
elbow, round and round, as you can at the shoul- 
der. 

A hinge-joint, at the shoulder, would have been 
very inconvenient. God knew that it would. He, 
therefore, made it very different from a hinge-joint ; 
and this shows you, not only His contrivance and 
skill, but that He had a particular design, in mak- 
ing the joint at the shoulder just as He did. 

R. What was his design, mother, in making it 
so ? 

M. You will see, by and by, my son. 

Look at the upper end (a) of the shoulder-bone. 
It is round, very much like the little ball that you 
play with. 

Now, look at the bone at which I am pointing 
(b). It is called, the shoulder-blade, because it is 
flat and thin, something like the blade of a knife. 
You can feel it, directly behind your shoulder. 

You see one end of this bone crooks round, like 
the bill of a crow (c). 

You see, too, that there is another end which 
crooks round also (d). 



48 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Between these hooks, as we will call them, you 
see a small hollow place in the shoulder-blade (e). 

Around this hollow place, there is a ring of gris- 
tle, which, with the hollow place, makes a kind of 
cup, in which the round end of the shoulder-bone 
(a) fits exactly, and moves with great ease. 

The end of this bone (a), you recollect, is also 
covered with gristle ; and so is the hollow place in 
the shoulder-blade (e). 

R. i do not see the ring of gristle, mother, nor 
the gristle on the end of the shoulder-bone, in the 
picture. 

M. They are not drawn, my son, but you can 
think a little, how they would look. I will show 
them to you, some time, in a picture. 

The round end of the shoulder bone, in your 
arm, keeps in the hollow cup, about which I have 
been telling you ; and it moves round in the cup, 
every time that you move your arm. It moves 
easily, too, because the ring, and coverings of gris- 
tle, are so smooth and elastic, and because the joint- 
oil keeps them slippery. 

Only try, and see, how easily and quickly, and 
in how many different ways, you can move your 
arm, at the shoulder-joint. 

(Robert does so). 

R. Mother, what do you call the shoulder- 
joint ? You said, it is not a hinge-joint. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



49 



M. We might call it a cup and ball joint. It 
is more common, however, to call it a ball and 
socket joint. The socket is the hollow place like 
a cup, which holds the round end of the bone, and 
in which it moves. 

Make your left hand hollow, as much like a cup 
as you can ; and shut up the thumb and fingers of 
your right hand, as the boys do, when they double 
up a fist. 

Now put your right hand into your left hand ; 
and hold it fast with the thumb and fingers of the 
left hand ; and move your right hand round as 
many different ways as you can 
(Robert does so). 

R. Mother, I can move it all sorts of ways. 
I can make my right arm go up and down, or for- 
wards and backwards, or round and round, very 
quick, indeed. 

M. Well, this is something like the joint at the 
shoulder. The two hooked ends of the shoulde^ 
blade (c d), which you see in the picture, clasp 
roimd the round end of the shoulder-bone (a), and 
help to keep it in its place, somewhat as the thumb 
and fingers of your left hand did your right hand. 
But this alone would not be enough to keep the 
shoulder-bone in its place. Something more is 
necessary. 

R. Mother, how is the end of the shoulder-bone 

4* 



50 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



kept so strongly in the hollow cup, and never gets 
out of it ? 

M. Call it socket, my son. 

The end of the shoulder-bone is kept in the sock- 
et, in this way. 

The little bag that holds the joint-oil, and the 
two hooked ends of the shoulder-blade, help to 
keep the end of the shoulder-bone in the socket ; 
but, besides this, there are strips of hard and strong 
flesh, and several very tough and strong cords, that 
are fastened to these strips of flesh, which pass 
over the shoulder-joint, in various ways, and bind 
it, and keep it from moving out of the socket. 

The strips of flesh, are called, muscles, and the 
cords that are fastened to the muscles, are called 
tendons. 

The muscles and tendons are fastened to the 
bones on different sides of the joints. They pull 
the bones, and make them move on their joints, a 
great many different ways. Besides this, they 
bind the shoulder-joint, and keep it in its place, as 
1 have just told you. 

II. Mother, do explain to me, more about these 
muscles and tendons. They must be very curious ; 
I wish, I could see them. 

M. We must not attend to too many things at 
once, Robert. You can understand things best, by 
attending to only one 9 at a time. 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



53 



I intend to tell you more, hereafter, about the 
muscles and tendons, and to show you some pic- 
tures of them. 

R. I shall be very glad, mother, and thank you 
very much. 

M. I have done explaining to you, Robert, 
about the joint at the shoulder. 

Now, I will tell you about the joint at the elbow, 
which is, also, very curious, and shows you the de- 
sign, contrivance, and skill, of God, in making it. 

Here is a drawing of it, which I wish you to 
examine. 

M. It is the right arm which you are looking 
at, and the elbow is toward you, as if the person 
was standing with his back to you. 

R. That, mother, is a part of the shoulder-bone 
(a), about which you have been telling me. 

M. Yes, but you do not see the round end, 
which sets into the socket, at the shoulder-joint. 

The other end of the bone, whichyou see, has a 
very different shape. 

There is a hollow place (b), at this end, into 
which a hooked part (c) of another bone sets. 
You recollect, I showed you this bone, (see page 
36), and told you, that it was called, the ulna. It 
is this bone which moves up and down, at the el- 
bow joint, when the whole arm is stretched out, 
and the shoulder-bone kept still. 



54 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. I shall remember, mother, to call it the ulna. 
You told me, too, that the ulna, at its lower end, 
joins the wrist, on the side where the little finger is. 

M. Well, a hooked end of the ulna (c), you see, 
sets into a hollow place (b) of the shoulder-bone, at 
the elbow-joint. It is this hooked end of the ulna, 
on which you lean, when you say, that you lean on 
your elbow. You can feel it very easily with your 
thumb and fingers. 

Now, suppose the person, at whose right arm you 
are looking, to turn round and face you. You will 
see the inside of the arm, thus. 

Look at the lower end of the shoulder-bone, and 
you see a small, hollow place (a), into which another 
hooked end (b) of the ulna sets. This hollow place, 
however, is quite shallow, not so deep as the one on 
the other side, which I showed you ; and this end is 
not so long and hooked as the other end. 

These two, hooked ends of the ulna> clasp round 
the end of the shoulder-bone, and form a joint, which 
is called a hinge-joint, so that you can move your 
arm, at the elbow ; but you can move it only one 
way. 

When you straighten your arm, the hooked end 
on the outside, goes into the hollow place on the out- 
side, and sets firm and fast into it, and helps to keep 
the ulna in its place, and from going any farther 
back. 



ON NATURAL THEOLO&Y. 



57 



When you bend your arm, so as to bring your 
hand up to your shoulder, the crooked end of the 
ulna on the inside, goes into the hollow place on the 
inside, and helps to keep the ulna in its place, and 
from going any farther, that way. 

R. Mother, I wish I could see the real bones, and 
then I should know exactly how they look. 

M. When you grow older, my son, perhaps you 
may see them ; but I think you can understand 
about them, pretty well, from looking at the pictures. 

R. I do not know, mother, that I understand 
exactly, how the two hooked ends of the ulna, going 
quite down into the two hollow places, in the end 
of the shoulder-bone, help to keep the arm from 
going too far, one way or the other. 

M. I think I can explain it to you a little further, 
so that you will understand it. 

Shut up your left hand tight, as the boys do, 
when they double up a fist. 

Now crook the thumb and fore-finger of your 
right hand, so as to make half the letter O, and shut 
up the three other fingers. 

Clasp your left hand, with the thumb and fore- 
finger of your right hand ; so that the fore-fingei 
may lie between the lower joint of the little finger, 
and of the finger next to it ; and that the thumb 
may lie just under the thumb of the left hand. 

Roll your right hand on your left hand, from yvu. 
5 



58 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and towards you, keeping it as close as you can to 
your left hand, and making the fore-finger and 
thumb of your right hand as hooked as you can. 

You will see, that, after your right hand has 
moved a little one way or the other, it will stop ; and 
if there were two, small, hollow places, in your left 
hand, in which the ends of your thumb and finger 
could set, this would help still more to keep your 
right hand from moving any farther, and to keep it 
in its place. 

The middle joint of the fore-finger of your right 
hand, represents (or is like), the elbow of your arm ; 
and the clasping of the fore-finger and thumb round 
your left hand, is something like the hinge-joint at 
the elbow. 

R. Now, mother, I seem to understand it better. 
But you have not told me any thing, yet, about the 
radius. 

M. One thing at a time, my son. Just now, you 
did not quite understand about the motion of the 
ulna round the end of the shoulder-bone. Be atten- 
tive, and not in a hurry. Be sure, that you under- 
stand every thing, as I am explaining it to you ; and, 
if you do not understand it, tell me so, and ask me 
all the questions that you wish to do. 

That is the way, that little boys and girls should 
do, and big men and women, too, when they are 
learning any thing new and difficult. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



61 



If people would all do so, they would know a great 
deal more than they do ; and they would not so 
often be mistaken ; and they would be a great deal 
wiser. 

This evening, I will tell you about the radius ; and 
then, you can ask me any m re questions that you 
choose, about what I have already told you. 



DIALOGUE V. 

Robert. Mother, it is more ihan an hour yet, 
before I must go to bed. Remember, you promised 
to tell me about the radius. 

Mother. Well, my son, I always mean to keep 
my promises. Come, sit down by the table, and 
look at this drawing. 

R. Oh ! mother, I remember which the radius 
is. There it is (a), just above the ulna (b). 

M, You are right, Robert. You see, one end (c) of 
it, is on that side of the hand, where the thumb is, 
and the other end (d) almost touches the lower end 

(e) of the shoulder bone. 

R. Does it not set in to the shoulder-bone, mo- 
ther, as the hooked ends of the ulna do ? 

M. No, my son, but there is a small, round knob 

(f) , on the end of the shoulder tone, on which the 

5* 



62 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



end of the radius moves. The end of the radius is 
made to fit on to this knob ; so that it is a very little 
like a ball and socket joint. 

The radius moves two ways, on this knob ; — up 
and down, when the elbow joint moves, and the 
hand is moved up and down ; — and it turns round 
on this knob, when the hand is turned round, at the 
wrist. 

R. Mother, how many curious motions, the dif- 
ferent bones have ! 

M. Yes, my son. Do you think, that you could 
cut out some little sticks of wood ; and shape them ; 
and fit them together ; so as to make them have as 
many different, curious motions, as the bones of the 
arm have ? 

R. No, mother, I should not have contrivance 
and skill enough. 

M. Well, my son, as we go on in our explana- 
tion, you will keep seeing more and more of the 
wonderful design, and contrivance, and skill of God, 
and of His goodness too, in making for you such a 
curious and convenient instrument, as the arm and 
hand. 

R. Mother, the end of the radius (d), next to the 
shoulder bone, looks like a button. 

M. Yes, my son, and it is called a button-head. 
You see the edge of it just touches the upper side of 
the ulna. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



(33 



R. Is it fastened to it. mother ? 

M. No, my son. If it was, you could not turn 
your hand round , at the wrist. 

R. Why not ; mother ? I do not understand 
that. 

If. One end of the radius (e). Robert, is fastened 
to some little bones, which are at the bottom of that 
side of the hand where the thumb is. To these 
little bones, the hand is fastened ; and it rests, and 
moves, on them. 

Now when you keep your arm quite still, so as not 
to move it, either at the shoulder, or at the elbow, 
and turn your hand over, and back again, the little 
bones at the bottom of the hand, must turn over, too. 

These little bones are fastened to the radius ; so 
that the radius must turn round also. And this it 
could not do, if its button-head (d) was fastened tight 
to the ulna. If it was, the radius could only move 
up and down, and only when the ulna did, for, being 
fastened tight to it, the radius would move just as 
the ulna does. 

Do you understand me ? / 

R. I think I do, mother, but I wish to look at 
the drawing, a little more. 

M. Just as long as you please, Robert. 

R. Mother, it seems to me, that when the radius 
turns round, at the same time that the hand does, 
at the wrist, — that the edge of the button-head (d) 
must roll on the side of the ulua. 



64 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. You are right, my son. It does ; and there 
is a small, hollow place (g) scooped out of the upper 
side of the end of the ulna, in which the edge of the 
button-head fits exactly, and in which it rolls, when- 
ever it turns round. 

It is this turning round of the radius, that enables 
you to turn your hand round, at the wrist, so that 
you can hold the back of it upwards, and then the 
palm of it upwards, just as you choose. 

R, Is the end of the radius at the wrist (c), fas- 
tened to the ulna, mother ? 

M. No, my son, for then the radius could not 
turn round. It could only move as the ulna does. 

But, at the wrist, it is the ulna that has a sort of 
button-head (h), and the hollow place which fits it, 
is scooped out of the radius ; so that, when the radius 
turns round, this hollow place rolls on the button- 
head of the ulna. 

And God has made all this so exactly, and so 
curiously, to enable you, both to bend your arm at 
the elbow, and, at the same time, to turn your hand 
round, whenever you wish to do it. 

Put your two fore-fingers close along side of each 
other. Keep them close at the lower joint, while 
you roll the fore-finger of the right hand over, and 
across, the fore-finger of the left hand, and back 
again. 

(Robert does so). 



0>" NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



65 



Well, this is something like the rolling of the 
radius over, and across, the ulna, when you turn 
your hand over, and back again. And you see the 
reason, why. at the elbow, the button-head of the 
radius, rolls in the hollow place (g) of the ulna, — 
and why, at the wrist, the hollow place of the radius 
rolls on the button-head (h) of the ulna. 

In this way, the end of the radius, at the wrist, 
has more motion than the end, at the elbow. It has 
a larger sweep, and the hand can be turned over 
farther, and more easily. 

R. Curious ! curious ! Mother, are all the other 
parts of the body as curious ? 

M. Yes, my son, and many of them are a great 
deal more so. 

R. I should think, it would take a great while 
to understand about them all. 

M. It would so, Robert ; a great many books 
have been written about them, by very wise and 
learned men. And yet, all is not known about 
'. Probably, many more curious, and wonder- 
ful, things will yet be found out. Then We shall 
have still more reason to admire, and be thankful 
for, the great wisdom and power, and skill, and 
goodness of God, in the bodies which He has made 
for our souls to live in, and to use, in so many ways, 
for our happiness, and for that of our fellow-men. 



66 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



But we must talk a little more about the elbow- 
joint, before you go to bed. Are you tired ? 

R. Not at all, mother ; I could sit here an hour 
longer, what you say is so entertaining and instruct- 
ive to me. 

M. I only wish to tell you, how the shoulder- 
bone, the ulna, and the radius, are fastened together, 
at the elbow-joint. For there are some things about 
it, a little different from the joint at the shoulder, and 
which show still further the design, contrivance, and 
skill of God. 

The ends of the bones, as at the shoulder-joint, 
are covered with gristle, the use of which I explained 
to you. The joint-oil, too, is furnished, and kept 
in a bag which surrounds the joint ; and you recol- 
lect what it is for. 

Several muscles, also, and tendons (strips of hard 
flesh, and tough, strong cords, about which I told 
you), pass across the joint, and being fastened, above 
and below it, help to keep the ulna and the radius in 
their places. 

But there is still something more done, to keep 
them in their places ; and this was very necessary, 
for there is a great strain at the elbow-joint, when we 
lift any thing very heavy, or do any thing very hard, 
with our hands. 

Here is a drawing, at which I wish you to look 
very attentively, while I am explaining it to you. 



Oy NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



69 



(a) is the shoulder-bone, (b) the radius, and (c) the 
ulna, of the left arm. 

They are all bound together, by the bag of the 
joint (d), which is not very strong itself, but is made 
so. by some ligaments that cross it in different di- 
rections. 

R. Mother, what is a ligament ? 

M. I was just going to tell you ; but I am glad, 
that you asked me, for it shows, that you recollect 
what I have told you — always to ask the meaning 
of any words that you do not understand. 

If you should wind the end of your handkerchief 
round two of your fingers, so as to bind them toge- 
ther, it would be called a ligament. 

A ligament is a band of any kind, put round two 
or more things, to bind them together. 

The ligaments, in our bodies, are either flat, like 
a piece of tape, or round, like a cord. They are very 
tough and strong, and are made up of a great many, 
very fine threads, very close together — closer than a 
strong man could twist a great many, fine, strong 
cords together. 

Now, look again at the drawing. The ligament 
(e) is a part of the bag, and goes over the button- 
head of the radius. It is very hard, and something 
like gristle. It is strengthened very much, by ano- 
ther ligament (n), which, you see, goes across the 
bag. 





70 



THE YOUTH ? S BOOK 



There are, also^ two ligaments (o o), which are 
small, but strong, slips, that go from the end of the 
shoulder-bone, to the bottom of the large hook of the 
ulna. 

Then, there is a ligament (p), passing between the 
radius and the ulna. 

So you see what care is taken, to make the elbow- 
joint firm and strong, and to keep all the bones in 
their places, while they can still move so curiously, 
around^ and upon : and across^ each other. 

. You understand now, I suppose, enough about 
the joints, at the shoulder, and at the elbow, to see 
the design which God had in making them as He 
did. 

R. I do, pretty well, mother. His design was, to 
have them move, in the best way for our using them. 

M. That is right, Robert. And only think, if 
the hinge joint was at the shoulder, and the ball 
and socket joint at the elbow, how awkwardly we 
should move our arm. 

It would be difficult, then, and, indeed, impossi- 
ble for us, to do many things with our arms and 
hands, which we now do with great ease and quick- 
ness. 

Could any body suppose, that the man who first 
thought of making a pencil-case, like my silver one, 
had not a particular design in making it ? When 
you examine it, and see how all its parts are cu- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



71 



rionsfy made> and skilfully put together, do yoft not 
think, at once, and believe, that a man made it, and 
that he had a particular design in making all its 
parts, and in putting them together, just as he did ? 

And when you examine the hinge of a door, can 
you believe, that it was made for any other purpose, 
than to have the door swing upon it ? Did not the 
man who first thought how to make it, have a par- 
ticular design in making all its parts, and in putting 
them together, just as he did ? 

What else could the pencil-case have been made 
for, than to hold a small, new kind of lead pencD, 
different from the old land, and more convenient for 
a person to write with ? 

What else could the hinge of a door have been 
made for, than to have the door swing upon it, and 
open and shut ? 

In the game way, what else could the joints at 
the shoulder and elbow, have been made for, than to 
help the arm and hand to move, easily and quickly, 
a great many different waj's, so that we can use 
them for doing a great many different things ? 

And why were the shoulder-joint, and the elbow- 
joint, made so differently from each other ? Here, 
we see another particular design. For, if there 
was no such design, they would have been made 
alike, just as the two hinges of a door arc. 

There is no reason, why the two hinges of a door 



72 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



should be unlike. No, there are good reasons why 
they should be made exactly alike. 

Now, there are no good reasons, why the shoulder 
and elbow-joints, should be made alike. If they 
were made so, they would be very awkward and 
inconvenient, and quite useless for doing many things 
which we now do easily and well. 

But you can see many good reasons, why they 
should be made unlike, and why, at the shoulder, 
there should be a hall and socket joint, and, at the 
elbow, a hinge joint. 

In making them so, God had a particular de- 
sign ; and, when we examine their curious parts, 
we not only believe that there is a God who made 
them, but that He made all the parts, and put 
them together just as he did, for one purpose, and 
for no other. 

Every time that we move our arms and our hands, 
or do any thing with them, shows us this one pur- 
pose for which God made the joints exactly as he 
has made them. 

R. Mother, how little men know, and how little 
they can do ! How wise, and powerful, and skilful, 
God is ! 

M. Remember, too, my son, how good God is ! 
He is good in making all the parts of your body, just 
as He has made them ; and in keeping them in 
order, as He does ; and in giving you health and 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



73 



strength ; and in keeping you safe from danger, eo 
that none of your limbs hare been broken, or any 
part of your body injured. 

Has not God a right to command you, never to 
use your arms and hands for doing any thing wrong, 
nor your lips and tongue for saying any thing wrong, 
but to use them, and your whole body, in obeying 
and serving Him, and in doing good to others ? 

R, Yes, indeed, I think He has, mother. 

ML Remember it my son ; and always fear to 
use your body for any wrong purpose, and thus sin 
against God. For God looks on all who sin against 
Him, with very great displeasure. 

R. I hope, mother, that I shall always remem- 
ber what you have told me, and try to use my arms, 
and hands, and lips, and tongue, and all the parts of 
my body, just as I ought to do, and to do good with 
them. 

M. I hope you will, my son, and that God will 
enable you to do so. 



DIALOGUE VI. 

Mother. You have been a good boy, Robert, 
and ; aid your lessons well, and now I will explain 
to you something more about the arm and hand. 

6* 



74 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Robert. I shall be very much obliged to you, 
mother, for doing it. For I should not like to stop 
now, and not know any thing about the wrist and 
hand, since I understand pretty well about the bones 
and joints in the arm. 

M. You will see, my son, that the bones and 
joints in the arm, are all connected with the bones 
and joints of the wrist and hand ; indeed, they were 
designed principally to enable you to use your hand. 
The different kinds of motions, at the shoulder and 
elbow-joints, enable you to carry your hand from one 
place to another ; to reach up high or down low, and 
get any thing ; to stretch your hand forward, or to 
put it behind you ; and to move it, in one direction 
and another, as you may wish. 

So you see all the parts of your arm and hand, are 
only parts of one and the same instrument, made, 
and put together, with one design^ to enable you to 
use it easily and quickly, for your own good, and the 
good of others. 

R. Mother, God must have thought a good deal, 
how to make the arm and hand. 

It would take a man a great while to think how 
to make such a curious and useful instrument, and 
one, too, that should always keep in good order. 

M. My son, God's thoughts are not as our 
thoughts. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



75 



When we say that God designs and contrives, we 
do not mean, that he does so as we do. 

We have to think long and hard, in designing 
any thing which it is difficult to make. Some men 
have spent many years in doing this. The man 
that first designed a steamboat did ; and yet he 
did not make it as good as it might have been made. 
Other persons have since designed and made steam- 
boats, and made them better in many things. And 
other persons will probably make steamboats, still 
better, more safe, and more useful, and thus show 
their design and contrivance. 

But God thinks immediately, and loithout the 
least diffimlty, how to make the things ichich He 
wishes to make, and which apjyear to us the most 
difficult to be made. 

He knows all things, and therefore, knows all the 
different ways in which things can be made, and 
how their parts can be put together, and what is the 
best way of doing this. 

When a man designs and contrives any thing, he 
could not do it, if he had not learned a great many 
things from others. 

You could not design and contrive how to make 
a new kind of kite, if you had not seen the boys 
make kites, and thus learned yourself how to make 
them. 

But God learns nothing from other beings. 



76 



TH23 YOUTH'S BOOK 



He knmm, and has always known, how all kinds 
of beings and things can be made, and for what 
they can be made ; and He can make them ivhen- 
ever Me chooses, exactly and perfectly, as easily 
and quickly as you can speak a word. 

R. What do you mean, mother, when you say, 
that God is skilful ? 

M. Do you remember, that you told me, some 
days ago, what skill is ? 

R. Yes, mother. 

M. Well, tell me again, what it is. 

R. It is, — after any body has contrived how to 
make any thing, — to get every thing ready, and put 
all the parts together, just as they ought to be, so as 
to have the thing well made, and to do all this, 
easily, and exactly, without making any mistake, 

M. We do not get our skill at once. It takes us 
a long time to get it, You had to make a good 
many kites, before you was skilf ul in making one. 
Little children are not skilful. They make a great 
many mistakes, when they try to make any thing. 
They must grow older, and often see other persons 
do things, and have things explained to them, and 
think a great deal, and use their hands a great deal, 
before they can have skill in making, or doing 
things. 

But God does not get His skill in this way. 
Eh never has to learn, how to make or to do any 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



77 



thing. His skill is perfect. By this I mean, that 
He never makes the smallest mistake in making 
iny thing, and that He can make it at once, and 
without the least difficulty, exactly as it is best it 
should be made. 

When the most skilful man makes any thing, 
other persons will, sometimes, see some way in which 
it might be made a little better. 

Nobody can see any way in which the things 
which God has made, could be made at all better. 

The arm and hand, with all their joints and parts, 
could not be made better in any one thing, when we 
consider the being for whom they were made ; the 
body to which they belong ; and the uses for which 
they were designed. 

Can any body point out a way, in which any part 
of the arm or hand could be made better ? Nobody 
can. In them God shows us His perfect skill ; and 
in all things which God has made, His skill is 
perfect. 

This is some explanation of the skill of God. But 
all that we know, or all that we can think, about it, 
is very, very far below w T hat it truly is. 

The skill of God is one part of His wisdom ; 
and He is wise, in knowing every things which it 
is best should be done, or made ; and, also, in 
knowing the very best way in which it shoidd be 
done, or made. 



78 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

The wfedom of God is as much greater than our 
\rfsdom, as this world is greater than one grain of 
sand ; yes, as millions, and millions, and millions 
of this world, would be greater than one such grain ; 
and as many more worlds, added to these, as all the 
people that ever lived could count, if they should do 
nothing but count all theix lives. 

The wisdom of God is infinite. But come, 
look at this drawing, and I will explain to you about 
the wrist and hand. 

(See page 58). 

The wrist is made up of eight email bones (k), 
which you see are of different sizes and shapes. 

They are tied together very strongly by bands, or 
ligaments, that go across them, and they make a sort 
■of ball, on which the other bones of the hand move. 
You see, there are two rows of these eight bones. 
Two, in the lower row(i, 2), are so put together, 
that they form a ball, which fits in to a hollow place, 
or socket, (1), in the end of the radius, and forms the 
wrist-joint* 

This joint at the wrist is very mo veable. It is also 
very strong ; for it is almost like a hinge-joint, the 
hollow of the radius, and the ball of the bone that 
fits into it, both being very long. It has a very free 
motion, too, for it turns with the radius, whenever 
the radius turns. 

The other two small bones, in the lower row, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



T9 



(3, 4), are connected with the end of the ulna ; but 
they do not make an exact joint with it. They 
roll upon it, and make the motions of the hand, at 
the wrist-joint, easier. 

R, There are four bones, mother, in the upper 
row. 

M. Yes, and the one (5) next to the thumb, is 
a pretty large one. it has a socket in which the 
ball of the thumb moves. The second bone from 
this (7), has a long, round head, which is jointed 
with the hollow of the bone below (2) ; so that it 
makes a sort of bail and socket joint, by which the 
upper row of bones, moves upon the lower row. 

All these eight bones, in the two rows, where 
they are joined to each other, are covered with 
smooth gristle (or cartilage, as it is also called). 
This, you know, makes them move very easily. 
They are bound firmly together, by a great many 
cross ligaments of different kinds, and they make 
something like one great joint, but much move flex- 
ible than a single joint would be. 

R. Mother, what does flexible mean ? 

M. Can you bend this andiron ? 

R. I cannot, but I can bend the handle of that 
little whip that lies on the floor. 

M. The handle of the whip is flexible, Robert, 
but the andiron is not. The joints of your fore- 



80 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



finger, make it very flexible. See, in how many 
different ways, you can bend it. 

A blade of grass, too, is very flexible. An icicle 
is not flexible. If you try to bend it, it immediately 
breaks in two. 

R. I think, there is no part of my body, mother, 
which is so flexible as my hand and fingers. 

M. You see the design of God, my son, in 
making them so. Ten thousand, thousand different 
things, which men and women learn to do, so curi- 
ously, so quickly, and so easily, with their hands 
and fingers, could not be done, if there were not 
so many joints, and bones moving smoothly on 
each other, and thus making the hands and fingers 
very flexible. 

Look at the picture again, Robert. Above the 
upper row of the eight bones, about which I have 
been telling you, you see five long bones. 

The bone under the thumb, has a large, round 
head, which forms a ball and socket joint (m) with 
the bone below it, about which I told you. 

This gives the thumb a very wide and free mo- 
tion, which, as you may see, from using it, with 
your fingers, it was very necessary that it should 
have. 

The other four bones (n), with which the fingers 
are jointed, have flat and square heads, which set 
very firmly upon the upper row of the eight bones 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



81 



of the wrist. They are bound to these bones by- 
ligaments, and move but little upon them. 

The thumb, you see, has but two bones, unless 
you count the lower bone with a round head, 
which, perhaps, ought to be done ; and then the 
thumb will have three bones, and three joints, just 
as the fingers have. 

The two upper joints of the thumb and fingers, 
are hinge-joints ; and these joints are made very 
strong, by ligaments on each side of them. 

With the help of these joints, we can bend and 
crook the thumb and fingers, so as to take hold of, 
or grasp, any thing very firmly. And we can do 
this so much the easier, and better, because the 
thumb stands out from the fingers, on one side, and 
is opposite to them. 

You know, how exactly you can put your thumb 
and fingers round your ball, so as to hold it very 
tight. 

How well, too, you can take hold of a rope, and 
pull it, with your two hands. 

And, it would seem, as if the thumb, and the two 
fingers next to it, were made on purpose to write 
with, and to sew with. What nice motions we 
can make with them, and what very fine things we 
can take hold of, and pick up with them. 

R. The nails help a good deal, mother, in doing 
that ; and so they do in untying hard knots, 

7 



82 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. That is true, my son, the nails, also, are a 
very curious and useful part of the hand. 

But, I have a little more to tell you about the 
joints of the fingers. 

The lower joints of the fingers, which we call the 
knuckles, are ball and socket joints. The hollow 
place is on the lower part of the finger bones, 
which move on the round heads of the bones below 
them (n). These joints give the fingers very free 
and easy motions, and enable us to separate them 
from each other, and to spread them out, like a fan. 

If the middle joints of the thumb and fingers, 
were ball and socket joints, we could not take hold 
of things, and clasp around them, so firmly with 
our thumb and fingers, as we now do. 

They w r ould be as awkward and inconvenient, as, 
I told you, a ball and socket joint at the elbow, 
would be. 

R. Mother, the hand is most curious and won- 
derful, indeed ! I never thought, before, that it 
had so many different parts, put together, just as 
they are. 

M. And yet, my son, I have not told you about 
many other parts of the arm and hand, quite as 
curious and wonderful. 

I have only told you about the hones^ and joints, 
and some of the ligaments. 

But from these alone, you see, with how much 



OK NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



83 



skill and goodness, God has made the arm and hand 
for your use and comfort. Did you ever think, 
how many things you can do with your arms and 
hands, although you are but a little boy ? 

R. I know I can do a great many things with 
them, mother. But I can do one thing with my 
fingers, that I have never told you about. 

M. What is that ? 

R. I can make the alphabet that the deaf and 
dumb use. A little boy taught it to me, last Sat- 
urday afternoon. 

M. That is another way in which the hand 
shows the skill and goodness of God. 

What would the deaf and dumb do, if they 
could not talk with us on their fingers. It is curi- 
ous to see, with what astonishing quickness, they 
can make all the bones and joints of their hands 
move, when they spell words. 

They can spell words four times faster, than the 
best writer can write them, on paper, with a pen. 

R. Mother, what is it that makes the bones 
move on the joints ? The door does not move on 
its hinges, unless you pull it open, or push it back 
again. 

M. I will tell you something about that, my 
son, to-morrow evening. 

Remember what 1 have already taught you ; 



84 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and if you should find that you have forgotten any 
thing, I will tell you about it again. 

Little boys and girls should not only endeavour 
to understand what is taught them, but to remem- 
ber it, too, 



DIALOGUE VIL 

Robert. Now, mother, please to explain to 
me, what it is that makes the bones move on the 
joints; 

Mother. I will, my son ; and you must con- 
tinue to be attentive, and not think about any thing, 
only what we are talking about. 

Tie the end of this handkerchief to the knob of 
that door, and open the door a very little. Then 
itand as far as you can from the door, and hold the 
other end of the handkerchief in your hand. 
(Robert does so). 

R. I have, mother, now what shall I do ? 

M. Pull the handkerchief. 

R. I have, and the door opens further. 

M. You see, too, Robert, how it turns on its 
hinges. 

R. I do, mother. 

M. Now, shut the door again, but not so as to 



ON NATUBAL THEOLOGY. 



85 



latch it. Tie the loose end of the handkerchief to 
the top of this chair on which I am sitting. 

Now, put your hand on the middle of the hand- 
kerchief, and press it gently down towards the 
floor. 

R. Mother, the door opens, just as it did before. 

M. Shut it again, without latching it. 

Now, take hold of the handkerchief, near the 
middle, with both your hands, and let your hands 
be a few inches apart. 

R. I have done so, mother. 

M. Bring your hands together, so that they may 
touch each other. 

R. I have, and again the door opens* 

M. Well, you see, this last time, how the hand- 
kerchief pulled the door open, because it was made 
shorter, by your bringing your hands together. 
One end of it was fastened tight to the chair, and 
this end did not move, because the chair was firm 
in its place. But the other end was drawn towards 
the middle of the handkerchief, and drew the door 
open with it, because the door was not latched, but 
could be made to move easily on its hinges. 

R. I understand all this, very well, mother, but 
how does it explain the motions of the bones on the 
joints ? 

M. Have a little patience, my son, and you will 
soon see. 

7* 



86 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Hand me the handkerchief. 1 am going to tie 
one end of it round my neck ; and do you tie the 
other round my wrist. 

(Mrs. Stanhope and Robert do this), 

Now, Robert, take hold of the middle of the 
handkerchief, with both your hands, as you did 
before. Put them a little ways apart, and, then, 
bring them together. 

R. It raises your hand up, mother, just as 
before, it pulled the door open. 

M. Have you ever seen any thing shrink, 
Robert ? 

R. Yes, mother ; you know when my mittens 
were wet, last winter, and I put them near the fire, 
to dry, they shrunk, so much that I could hardly get 
them on. 

M. Well, if there was any way of making the 
handkerchief shrink in the middle* without any 
body's touching it, it would raise my hand up, — 
would it not ? 

R. Yes, 1 see it would, just as it did, when I 
brought my hands together. 

M. There is something very muGh like this, 
Robert, — a kind of fleshy string in your arm, that 
shrinks and pulls your hand up, every time that you 
think to raise it, and bend your arm at the elbow. 
This string is fastened to one bone above your el- 
bow, and to another bone below it* 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



87 



R. What is it made of, mother. 

M. Do you see the fine silken threads in my 
handkerchief ? 

R. Yes, mother ; how many of them there are, 
and how close they are together. 

M. If you should pull out some of these silken 
threads, and split each one of them into a great 
many finer threads, a hundred times finer than the 
finest hair in your head, would they not be very 
fine ? 

R. Oh ! yes, mother, very fine, indeed, — and 
so fine, 1 do not think I could see them, at all. 

M. You might see them, however, by looking 
at them, through the microscope which I showed 
you, the other day. 

R, That instrument, mother, that had so many 
curious glasses in it ? 

M. Yes, my son, and you recollect you looked 
through it, at a single hair. 

R. I remember, mother. The hair looked as 
large as a small cord. 

M. Well, you might see the very fine threads, 
in the same way ; for the microscope would mag- 
nify them, that is, make them look a great deal lar- 
ger thnn they really were. 

R. But a little fine thread, like these, mother, 
would not be strong enough to draw my hand up ! 



TUB YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. A little patience, Robert. I have a gdod 
deal to explain to you, yet. 

Suppose, one of these very fine threads had 
wrapped all round it, something very thin, fine, and 
soft, making a kind of case, or sheath, for it. 

R. Mother, nobody could see to do that, unless 
they had eyes like microscopes ; and, then, the 
thumb and fingers, even of a little infant, would be 
too large and clumsy, to take hold of such fine 
things. 

M, Well, you know, you can suppose, that it 
might be done ; or, at least, that God could make 
it so. 

R. Oh ! yes, mother, for He can make, or 
do, any thing that He chooses. 

M. Well, my son, God has made such very 
small, fine threads, and such sheaths for them, as 
I have been telling you about, and they are in your 
arm, and millions, and millions, and millions of 
them, are in the different parts of your body. 

R. But they are not made of silk, mother. 

M. No, Robert, they are made of the same 
thing that your flesh is made of. 

A great many of these very small, fine threads, 
with their sheaths round them, are laid right along 
side of each other, so close, that it would be exceed- 
ingly difficult to separate them with the finest, 
sharpest, penknife, — and, then, there is one, larger 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



89 



case, that goes all around them ; keeping them very- 
tight together, and making a sort of small bundle of 
them. 

R. Mother, I should think, they would often 
get broken, they are so very small and fine. 

M. No, my son, God has made them so curi- 
ously, and put them together with so much care 
and skill, that hundreds and thousands of people, 
who live to be very old, never have a single one 
of these small, fine threads, broken. 

R. Mother, this, I think, is the most wonderful 
thing that you have told me about, yet. 

M. It is, indeed, very wonderful, Robert ; but 
our bodies are all full of wonders. Ti e are fear- 
fully, and wonderfully made. 

But, I have something still more curious to tell 
you about these small, fine threads, and the little 
bundles into which they are made. 

Several of these little bundles of threads, are 
laid right along side of each other, or on the top 
of each other, so as to make a little larger bundle. 
This bundle, also, has a sheath, or case, round it. 

Then, again, several of these larger bundles are 
put together in the same way, making a still larger 
bundle, with its sheath all round it. 

Sometimes more, and sometimes fewer, of these 
bundles are thus put together, till they make one 
great bundle. 



90 



THE ITOTJTH's BOOK 



This largest bundle of all, made up of the 
smaller ones, is called a muscle, and this, also, 
has a case, or sheath, round it. 

By putting so many of these very small, fine 
threads so closely together in their cases, and bun- 
dles, you see that a very strong muscle is made, 
— a great deal stronger to pull with than my hand- 
kerchief is. 

R. And is it such a muscle, mother, that pulls 
my hand up, when I raise it ? 

M. Yes, my son ; and every motion that you 
can make, in all the different parts of your body, 
when you speak, or eat, or turn your eyes and head, 
or sit down, or get up, or walk, or run, or hop, or 
jump, or climb, or take any thing, or carry any 
thing, or do any thing ; every motion that all the 
people make, in all their different kinds of business ; 
— every motion that all the beasts, and birds, anc 
fishes make ; — all these motions are made by the 
help of muscles, 

R. Mother, I should like to see a muscle very 
much. 

M. You can feel one, Robert, very easily. 

Take hold of the inside of your arm, between the 
elbow and shoulder, and squeeze it, with your 
thumb and fingers. 

R. That is my flesh, mother. It is not hard 
like a bone ? but quite soft. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY, 



93 



M. Well, it is the same tiling as a muscle ; you 
feel the muscle, or bundle that is made up of the 
smaller, and still smaller bundles of small, fine 
threads, with their cases, inside of each other. 

Look at this drawing, and you will see some of 
the muscles, in the arm and hand. 

Look at this muscle (a). It is on the inside of 
of the arm. It is fastened, near the elbow, to a 
knob of bone, on the inside of the shoulder-bone. 

You see, it goes along, down the arm, towards 
the wrist. It grows narrower, and narrower, till 
it looks like a cord (b). 

This part, like a cord, is not muscle. It is made 
up of a great many small, fine threads, but they are 
so made and put together, that the cord which is 
made out of them, is very different from a muscle. 

This cord is called a tendon. 

The tendons do not contract (or shrink), as the 
muscles do. They are much harder and firmer 
than the muscles are. They are very tough, and 
strong, and very hard to be broken. 

This tendon (b) looks like a part of the muscle, 
and as if it grew out of it. But it does not. It is 
fastened, however, very tight to the muscle, and 
moves whenever the muscle does. 

This tendon, you see, goes quite down to the 
wrist. 

At the wrist, it is fastened, on the inside of the 

8 



94 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



hand, to the bone that lies directly under the lowest 
bone of the fore-finger. 

The muscle and the tendon, which are firmly 
joined together, you see make one string, the two 
ends of which are fastened tight to two bones. 
These bones have the joint at the wrist between 
them, — the joint at the end of the radius, which I 
explained to you. 

As soon, then, as the muscle (a) contracts, it pulls 
the tendon (b) towards the muscle. The tendon 
pulls the bone under the fore-finger, the same way ; 
and so the hand bends at the wrist-joint towards 
the inside of the arm. 

R. But, mother, when you tied one end of the 
handkerchief round your neck, and the other round 
your wrist, to show me, how the arm moved at the 
elbow-joint, the handkerchief went straight from the 
wrist to your neck. 

M. 1 know that, my son. The muscles and 
tendons do not do so. If they did, they would be 
outside of the arm. 

R. That would look very bad, mother. 

M. Yes, and it would be very inconvenient, 
too. 

God has shown us His great wisdom and good- 
ness, in the way in which He has put together the 
muscles and tendons, and bones and joints. There 
are no less than forty-three muscles, with their 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



95 



tendons, and thirty bones, in the arm and hand ; 
besides ligaments, and many other parts about 
which 1 have not had time to tell you. Yet all 
these are packed very close together, within a 
small space, and covered with the skin, so that we 
do not see them, and we cannot touch them. 

They are packed closer a great deal than you 
have seen me pack my clothes in a trunk. But 
they do not get tangled with each other, nor rub 
against each other, so as to do any harm ; nor 
disturb each other, while they are moving in a 
great many different ways. 

Who could have done this, but He who has infi- 
nite skill, and power, and goodness ! God alone, 
the maker and preserver of all things, could have 
done it ! 

But before w T e stop, I wish to explain one thing 
to you. To do it, I will tie one end of my hand- 
kerchief to the fore-finger of your left hand, with 
the knot on the inside. 

(Mrs. Stanhope does so.) 

Now, Robert, pull the handkerchief towards 
your elbow, on the inside of your arm, keeping the 
handkerchief close to the arm. 

R. Mother, as soon as the wrist bends, the 
handkerchief begins to rise from the arm : and 
when the wrist is bent as much as it can be, the 
handkerchief is a good way from the arm. 

M. Just so, my son, the tendon (b) would spring 



96 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



up, if there was not a ligament, (or band), at the 
wrist, to keep it down. You see this ligament (c), 
and the tendon (b) goes under it. 

R. Is it not harder, mother, to bend the wrist, 
than if there was no ligament there, and the tendon 
was pulled straight from the hand to the elbow. 

M. Yes, my son ; but the muscle is a very strong 
one, and can pull hard enough. And you know 
how awkw 7 ard and inconvenient it would be, to 
have the muscle and tendon outside of the arm. 

But, give me your own handkerchief, and let me 
tie it round your wrist. Then my handkerchief 
and yours will be just like the tendon and band. 
(Mrs. Stanhope does so). 

Now pull my handkerchief, Robert, just as you 
did before. 

R. It raises the hand, mother, and bends the 
wrist very well ; but I have to pull harder. 

M. Very few of the muscles, my son, pull 
straight. They and their tendons go under liga- 
ments, and under, and across, and around other 
muscles and tendons, and pull in a great many dif- 
ferent w 7 ays. But they have great power, and can 
pull as hard as is necessary. If it was not so, how 
could so many of them be put together into your 
little body, so as to make so many different kinds 
of motions. 

There are five hundred and twenty-seven mus~ 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



97 



clesin your body; and every time that you breathe, 
one hundred of these muscles are moved. 

R. Mother, I am very much afraid, some of 
them will get broken, or go wrong. 

M. Why so, my son ? God, who had the skill 
and power to make them, and put them together, 
did it so perfectly, that they get broken or go 
wrong, very, very seldom indeed ; and, then, only 
when some accident happens to us, or w 7 hen we 
have some disease. 

You need not be afraid to run, hop, and jump, 
just as you have always done. That was one thing 
for which your muscles were made. And you 
should be truly thankful to God, that you can move 
your limbs so quickly and easily, and play so brisk- 
ly and happily. 

You must soon begin, also, as your muscles grow 
stronger, to use them in some kind of work. 

This is another thing that they were made for. 

God gave them to us, that we might be industri- 
ous. You must learn to be industrious, and to 
Work with your hands. 

This is the sure way to have a sound, healthy, 
and strong body, and a cheerful and active mind. 
Besides, you do not know how r poor you may be, 
so that you will be obliged to work, to earn money 
to buy clothes and food, and to take care of your- 
self. 

8* 



98 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK, 



Little boys that grow up, without learning at 
all, to work with their hands, although they may 
learn a great deal in books, often become quite 
sick and weak, when they are men, and so cannot 
use their knowledge for any good purpose. And, 
sometimes, they cannot get any body to do any 
thing for them, and they are helpless, like little in- 
fants, and do not know how to do any thing for 
themselves, and suffer a great deal. And, some- 
times, they become poor, and cannot earn any 
money, which they might very soon do, if they 
knew how to labour with their hands. 

R. Mother, you know I love to carry in wood 
for the parlour fire, and I will carry in a great deal 
more, when I grow older, and saw and split it, too. 

M. That is right, my son. Be industrious, and 
that will keep you from evil, and be one of the 
surest ways of making you happy. 



DIALOGUE VIII. 

Mother. I have a few things yet to tell you, 
Robert, about the muscles, that will show you still 
more of the design, and skill, and goodness of 
God, m making them as He has done. 

Robert. I shall listen to you, mother, very at- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



99 



tentively. Many things that you tell me, are a great 
deal more entertaining than what I read in my 
story books. 

M. I am glad to hear you say so, my son. 
Think, too, how much more useful it is for you to 
learn what is true, and what shows you the power, 
and wisdom, and goodness of our Heavenly Fa- 
ther, than to read stories which are not true, and 
which often have not much in them that is improv- 
ing or useful. But come, we must begin to talk 
about the muscles. 

Tie your handkerchief again to the handle of the 
lock on the door. 

(Robert does so). 

Now unlatch the door, and pull it open gently, 
by pulling your handkerchief. 

After you stop pulling the handkerchief, does 
the door shut again ? 

R. No, mother, and it will not, unless I push it 
to, again. 

M. Suppose, 1 should tie my handkerchief to 
the other handle of the lock, on the outside, and I 
should stand in the entry, and pull my handker- 
chief after you had done pulling your's. 

R. You would pull the door to, mother. 

M. Stretch out your arm as far as you can, 
Robert, so as to have your hand just as high up, 
from the floor, as your shoulder is. 

(Robert does so). 



100 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. Bend your arm at the elbow, so as to have 
your hand touch your breast. 

R. I thought to have it done, mother, and you 
see, my hand went to my breast immediately. 

M. You see, it stops there, and does not go 
back again. The muscle inside of your arm, about 
which I have told you, contracted, and pulled your 
hand to your breast. But this same muscle can- 
not pull your hand back again, any more than your 
handkerchief, when you stood inside of the door 
could pull it so as to make it shut. 

R. Then, mother, there must be an outside 
muscle, on the arm, to straighten it again, after 1 
bend it at the elbow. 

M. You are right, Robert ; there are two such 
muscles, and they are very strong ones. For if 
you will try, you will find, that, after having bent 
your arm, you can straighten it with a great deal 
of force. 

If you lift your whole arm up, at the shoulder- 
joint, and then let it fall down of itself, it will do so, 
just as the lid of a trunk does, if you let go of it, 
after having raised it up. 

But very often, in different kinds of work, men 
want to bring the hand down quickly, and so as to 
strike a hard blow. They want to do so, when 
they cut wood, and when they drive nails with a 
hammer. 



Oy NATURAL THEOLOGY. 101 

The outside muscles of the arm enable them to do 
this : and here again, you see the design which 
God had in making these muscles, and in placing 
them just right to pull, exactly, in an opposite 
direction from that in which some other muscles 
pull. Unless they had pulled just in this man- 
ner, they would have been of no nse. 

R. Do you remember, mother, when the two 
men came to saw wood for us, how quick they did 
it. They had one long saw, w ith handles at each 
end, and they stood on different sides of a stick of 
wood, and, first, one man pulled the saw towards 
hinu and then the other man pulled it towards him, 
and so they kept pulling it backwards and forwards. 
Do not the muscles about which you have been 
telling me, pull in some such way I 

M. They do, my son, and they are called anta- 
gonist nmscles. There are a great many of them 
in our bodies. All the motions of our hand and 
fingers are made with their help ; and without 
them, most of the motions that we make, would be 
very awkward ; — many of them quite useless; — 
and some motions that we should very often want 
to make, w r e could not make at all. 

R. One thing, mother, about the muscles, 1 do 
not understand. 

M. What is that, my son ? 

R. 1 understand pretty well, how they pull the 



102 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



bones whenever they shrink ; but, mother, what 
makes them shrink, just exactly when I think to 
have any part of my body move ? 

M. Yes, my son ; and what makes them con- 
tract, sloivly or quickly, just as you think to have 
the motion slow or quick ; and, then to stop con- 
tracting, just w 7 hen you wish to have the motion 
stop ; and to stop just as long as you wish to have 
them ; and then to let the antagonist muscles 
pull the other w T ay, just when you think to have 
them do so ! 

Is not this very wonderful indeed, when you 
think, how many thousand times your muscles do 
all this, even in one day ? 

R. It is, mother. I think, it is the most won- 
derful thing that you have yet told me. Do ex- 
plain it to me. 

M. 1 know hardly any thing about it, Robert. 
The wisest men who have studied about it a great 
deal, are as ignorant as you and I are, and cannot 
explain it. 

All that they know is, that there are a great many 
cords, or strings, made up of very fine threads, that 
go from a part of the head, called the brain, and 
also from the inside of the back-bone, which is 
filled with something that is connected with the 
brain, all over the body ; and that, without these 
cords, we could not see, nor hear, nor smell, nor 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



103 



taste, nor feel ; — and that without them, the mus- 
cles would not contract, when we wish any part of 
the body to move. 

R. What are these cords called, mother ? 

M. They are called nerves. They run into 
the muscles, and along side of the smaller bundles 
and threads of the muscles ; so that every muscle 
has a great many of these nerves. 

Now r , when you think to have your hand bend 
at the wrist ; your thinking, somehow or other by 
the help of the brain and of the nerves which go to 
the muscle that bends your icrist, makes that muscle 
contract, and immediately your wrist is bent 

How the nerves help to do this, or how they 
make the muscle contract, nobody knows. The 
wisest men only know, that it is so ; but of the way 
in which it is done, they are just as ignorant as a 
little child. 

They have found out, that if the nerves belong- 
ing to any muscle are weakened or destroyed by 
sickness or disease, then that muscle will not con- 
tract as it did before, although the person thinks, 
and wishes ever so much, to have that part of the 
body move, which the muscle was made to move. 

The nerves do the errand from the mind to the 
muscle ; and the muscle will not obey the mind, 
unless the nerves are well and strong, and do the 
errand faithfully. 



104 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. God knows, mother, how the nerves make 
the muscles contract. 

M. Yes, my son, for He made them both ; and 
He made them to act together as they do. 

If I had time to explain to you about all the 
?ierves in the body ; how some go to your eye, and 
help you to see ; and some to your ear, and to your 
nose, and to your tongue, and help you to hear, and 
smell, and taste ; and a great many others to all 
parts of your body, so that you have feeling all over 
it ; and, then, how a great many others go to all 
the muscles, and help you to make all the different 
kinds of motions that you do ; you would wonder 
still more and more at the wisdom, and skill, and 
goodness, of God, and see His design in making 
all these curious parts of your body just as He has 
made them. 

R. Mother, do tell me about some other parts 
of the body. I suppose, there are some more cu- 
rious than any you have told me about yet. 

M. There are so, Robert ; but I believe, you 
must wait till you grow a little older, for, then, you 
will understand the explanations of the different 
parts of the body much better than you can now. 

But I have one thing more to tell you about the 
nerves and muscles, to show you how wonderfully 
God has made them to work together, for our 
benefit. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



105 



R. What is that, mother ? 

M. Do you ever know what I mean, when I 
do not speak to you ? 

R. Sometimes, I can guess what you mean, 
mother, f rom your looks. I can easily tell, whether 
you are glad or sorry, and whether you are pleased 
with me, or not. It always makes me feel sorry to 
see you look so. 

M. Suppose, I should always wear a vail over 
my face, so that you could not see it, when I was 
talking with you. 

R. Oh ! I should not like that at all, mother. 
I like to see your eyes move about, and the differ- 
ent parts of your face move, and look so differently, 
at different times. 

When you tell me stories, or explain things to 
me, I can understand you much better when I see 
your face, and look straight at you, in your eyes. 

M. That is true, my son ; and I can almost 
always tell, whether you have got up a pleasant, 
and good boy, by your looks, when I first see you 
in the morning. 

And when you was a little infant, you could not 
speak and tell me, that you was in pain, or felt un- 
easy, but I knew if you was, by looking at your 
face. 

And you learned a great deal, at that time, by 
9 



loa 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



looking at my face. You could not understand 
my words ; but you very soon began to understand 
my looks. 

R. Oh ! mother, do you not remember, when 
we were at aunt Mary's, how my little cousin, Jane, 
would look, and look, right at her face, for a great 
while. 

M. Yes, my son ; and you remember, too, that, 
when Jane fretted and cried, when nothing was the 
matter, how your aunt would look a little cross at 
her, and shake her head, and Jane would be still 
almost instantly. 

R. Yes, mother, and often 1 am more afraid of 
you, when you only look at me, than I am, when 
you speak to me, for doing wrong. 

M. And when you are a good boy, and I pat 
you on the cheek, and look pleasantly at you, how 
do you feel then ? 

R. I feel very happy, mother ; / like to see 
your looks : then. It almost seems, as if you were 
speaking to me, and saying, that you love me for 
being a good boy. 

But 1 know another time, mother, when your 
looks did me a great deal of good. 

M. When was that ? 

R. When 1 was so sick on my little bed, and 
you had to send for the doctor. You sat by me, 
and took hold of my hand, and looked as if you 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



107 



felt sorry for me, and wished to do every thing to 
make me better. I think your looks really did 
one a great deal of good. 

M. And you remember, too, Robert, what a 
kind man the doctor was. 

R. Oh ! yes ; he looked very kindly at me, 
and that, too, made me feel better, and hope, I 
should get well. Mother, I think, doctors should 
take a great deal of care, always to look pleasantly 
and kindly, when they go to see people who are 
sick. 

M. We should all of us, my son, try to look 
pleasantly and kindly, at all times ; and then, we 
shall, both, make others happier, and feel more 
happy ourselves. 

The doctor, too, is often able to learn a great 
deal from the looks of the persons who are sick, 
w 7 hen he sees them, the first time ; and to tell, 
when he sees them afterwards, whether they are 
getting better or worse. 

R. Mother, I never knew before, how useful 
it is, to have our faces look so many different ways, 
and show what we think, and what we feel. 

M. God knew, my son, how necessary it would 
be for our comfort, that it should be so, and you 
see how curiously, and with what wonderful de- 
sign and skill, he has made the different parts of 



108 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the face, and the muscles and nerves, which help 
these parts to move, in so many different ways. 

R. Mother, are there a good many muscles to 
move our eyes, and all the different parts of our 
face. 

M. There are, my son, and by their help, we 
can look, almost, if not quite, as many different 
ways, as we can think, or feel. 

How many different ways a little child moves 
his mouth and lips, when he feels pleasant or unplea- 
sant ; kind or cross ; mild or angry ; patient or 
impatient ; contented or fretful ; when he smiles, 
or laughs, or pouts, or cries. 

How many different ways, too, he moves his 
mouth and lips, when he breathes, and speaks, and 
chews, and swallows. 

To open and move the mouth and lips, in all 
the different ways that we can, a number of mus- 
cles is necessary. Now, when one of these pulls 
one %vay, you know, there must be another muscle, 
to pull back again, the other way, which, you re- 
collect, I told you, is called, an antagonist muscle. 

R. I hardly see, mother, how there can be 
room for so many different muscles, and the anta- 
gonist muscles too, about the mouth and lips. 

M. The truth is, Robert, there is only one anta- 
gonist muscle, which is so curiously made and 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



109 



placed, that it can pull all sorts of ways, so as to 
pull back all the other muscles, by itself alone. 

R. Where is it placed, mother ? 

M. It is all round the mouth, about an inch 
in breadth. It is the thick, fleshy part of the lips. 
It lies in the red part of the lips, and it is fastened 
at the two corners of the mouth. Its use is. to be 
an antagonist muscle to a great many others that 
move the mouth and lips, and to shut up the mouth 
so tight, that if you blow ever so hard, it can keep 
the breath in your mouth. 

R. How far it can be stretched, mother, and 
then how small it can contract itself! 

M. Yes, it is both a very elastic, and a very 
strong, muscle. It is rounds for a straight muscle 
could not have pulled so many different ways, and 
it is placed just where a round muscle was wanted. 
It helps, too, to form part of the mouth and lips ; 
and there are a good many letters and words 
which we could not speak, if we did not have this 
curious muscle. 

R. How many, many different things had to 
be made, and exactly put together, mother, to make 
our bodies just what they should be ! 

II. That is true, my son ; I might keep on ex- 
plaining to you, even about the muscles alo/te, and 
even' one of them, would show you the wonderful 
9* 



110 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



design, and contrivance, and skill, and great good- 
ness, too, of the Almighty Being who made us. 

But we have talked enough for this time. I shall 
tell you a little more about the muscles and nerves, 
this evening. 



DIALOGUE IX, 

Robert. Is there any other round muscle, mo- 
ther, besides the one that goes round the mouth ? 

Mother. Yes, there is one that goes all round 
the eye. It lies directly under the skin of the up- 
per and lower eyelids, and is very flat and thin. 
It is fastened to a little knob on the upper jaw- 
bone, quite in the inner corner of the eye, close to 
the nose. ]f you put your finger carefully there, 
you will feel the tendon, which fastens it, like a 
little knot. 

It goes, from this tendon over the upper eyelid, 
round the outer corner of the eye, over the lower 
eyelid, and so, back again, to the tendon. 

This curious little muscle helps us to shut up the 
eye, which, you know, we often want to do ; and, 
if any thing gets into the eye, it squeezes very hard, 
and often squeezes it out. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



Ill 



When persons weep, it is this muscle, too, which 
presses the ball of the eye down, and squeezes 
something like a small piece of spongy flesh, that 
makes the tears, and they flow out. 

R. Mother, it seems to make me feel easier, 
sometimes, to weep. 

M. Yes, my son, there are times when our 
pain, or our sorrow, causes us to weep, and it is 
a great relief to us, to shed tears. 

God knew, that it would be so, and He made this 
curious muscle, and the small piece of spongy flesh, 
which is called a gland, and the other parts of the 
eye, so that we might get this relief. 

I knew a lady who could not shed a tear, even 
when she was in the greatest pain, or sorrow. The 
gland, which makes the tears, had been destroyed 
by severe sickness ; and although she often tried 
to weep, and strained the muscle, about which I 
have been telling you, as hard as she could, she 
could not shed a single tear. She told me, she 
did not know before that severe sickness, how ex- 
ceedingly distressing it was, never to be able to 
weep. She said, oh ! how much she would give, 
to be able to weep, sometimes ! 

A friend of mine was acquainted with a gentle- 
man in England, who could not open his right eye, 
unless he raised the eyelid with his fingers. This 
was quite an affliction to him. His right eye wa# 



112 



the youth's boos: 



perfectly sound, and when the eyelid was raised, 
he could see as well with that eye, as with the 
other. 

R. What was the reason of that, mother ? 

M. The muscle which lifts up the eyelid, or 
the nerve which helps the muscle to move, w r as 
weakened, or destroyed. 

So you see, how much your comfort depends 
upon all these muscles and nerves, even the smallest 
of them, which God has so curiously made and put 
together, and which He so kindly keeps in perfect 
order. 

Watches, you know, often get quite out of order; 
and even the very best of them, will not always go 
exactly right. We are obliged to send them to a 
skilful watchmaker, to have them put in order 
again. 

Now, our bodies are made up of a thousand, and 
thousand times more parts than a watch has, — and 
much more curious parts, too, more difficult to put 
together, and to have them all fit each other, and 
always go right. 

R. Mother, I think no parts of a watch are any 
thing like so curious, as the muscles and nerves. 

M. That is true, my son ; and when we con- 
sider, how perfectly all the parts of our body are 
made, and put together, for the thousand different 
mes for which they toere designed, — and, still 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



US 



more, that in most persons, they keep on going 
exactly right % what is the contrivance and skill of 
the man who makes a watch, to that of the Crea- 
tor and Preserver of our bodies ! 

R. I wonder, people do not think more of this, 
mother ! 

M. It is, indeed, not only wonderful, my son, 
but, it shows, how stupid and ungrateful they are. 

How thankful most persons would be, if any 
body should give them a beautiful, gold watch, that 
cost a hundred dollars, and was one of the best 
that could be made. 

They would be often looking at it, and admiring 
it, and showing it to others, and talking about it? 
and feeling very thankful to the kind friend who 
gave it to them. 

Our arm and hand is vastly more wonderful, 
and useful to us, than the dearest and best watch 
would be, and yet, how seldom we think of this, or 
talk about it, and feel grateful to our kind Heavenly 
Father, who made this part, and all the parts of 
our bodies for our use and comfort ! 

R. Mother, I think about it a good deal. 

M. I hope, you will continue to do so, my son, 
and to feel more and more thankful to God, for all 
His goodness to you. 

R. Mother, you have been telling me about 
many of the muscles in the face ; I should think 



114 



THIS YOUTH'S BOOK 



there must be a great many nerves, to go with 
them, and to help them to act. 

M. There are so, Robert, and here is a draw- 
ing, in which you will see a good many of them. 

R. Mother, this side of the face is full of them ; 
are there as many on the other side ? 

M, Just as many, exactly, and they go in dif- 
ferent directions, just as these do. 

R. Do they all do the same thing ? 

M. No, my son, some of them go to the eyes, 
that we may see ; and some to the ears, that we 
may hear ; and some to the nose, that we may 
smell ; and some to the tongue, that we may taste ; 
and some to the mouth, and lips, and throat, that 
we may eat, nnd swallow, and speak ; a good 
many go to all parts of the face, so that we may 
feel, if any thing hurts us, and put it away, or, if the 
face is wounded or injured, take care of it ; some 
of the nerves go to muscles, and help them to 
move, even if %ve do not think to have them move ; 
and most of these, and some others, also, tell the 
muscles to move, whenever we wish to have them 
do so. 

R. How do muscles move, mother, when we 
do not think to have them move ? 

M. Does a little child think to draw in the air 
and blow it out again, every time that he breathes ? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



117 



R. No, mother, and you do not, nor I. But I 
can stop breathing, if I choose. 

M. Yes, for a very little while. But, if you were 
to try to do so long, you would find, that you would 
soon have to breathe again, in spite of yourself, 

R. You told me, mother, that a hundred mus- 
cles are moved, every time that we breathe. 

M. I did so ; and you see, that not only one 
muscle but a hundred, are moved continually, with- 
out our thinking to have them move. 

R. But what is the use, mother, in having any 
of the muscles of the face move, if we do not think 
to have them move ? 

M. Did you ever wink your eyes, without 
thinking' of doing it ? 

R. Yes, mother, a great many times. They 
keep winking constantly. Why do they keep 
winking so ? 

M. You remember, I told you about the tears, 
and about that something like a small piece of 
spongy flesh, called a gland, which makes them. 

Tears are very useful for something more, than 
to give us relief by weeping. They moisten the 
eye, and keep it clean and smooth, so that it moves 
easily. 

The tears keep coming all the while from the 
gland, through a great many small tubes, which 
run in the upper eyelid, and they are spread, by 
10 



118 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the motion of this eyelid, and the lower one, when 
they wink, all over the forepart of the eye. 

If more tears come than are needed to moisten 
and to clean the eye, they are carried through two 
very little holes in the eyelids, to a small bag, near 
the inside corner of the eye, and then through a 
hole in the bone, as large as a goose-quill, to the 
inside of the nose. 

They are, then, spread over the inside of the 
nostril, and the warm air, that is, all the while, 
passing up and down, as we breathe, dries them 
up, almost instantly. 

But there is another reason, why your eyelids 
wink of themselves. It is to keep off any thing 
that may be coming too near to the eye, to hurt it, 
— any little insect, or any little particles of dust. 
The eyelashes, too, were made for the same 
purpose. 

So that you see, in how many different ways, 
God has taken care that the eye should be kept in 
order, and be kept safe from injury. 

But this is not the one hundredth part of what is 
most curious and wonderful, that I could tell you, 
about the eye. You shall read all about it when 
you grow older, and are better able to understand 
it. For some things about it, it would be very 
difficult, indeed, if not impossible, for you to under- 
stand now. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



119 



R. When I grow a few years older, I mean to 
study all about the different parts of the body, if you 
will let me. 

M. I shall have no objection, my son, especially 
if you should be a physician ; but you must be very 
industrious, and learn a good many other things, first. 

R. Mother, I want to ask you one question 
about the nerves. 

M. Do, my sen, as many as you choose. 

R. You have showed me a drawing of the 
nerves which go all over the face. Do all these 
nerves help us to look so very differently, at different 
times ? 

M. No, my son, it is only one set of them which 
is principally concerned in doing this. You see the 
branch of nerves which is just before the ear (a). 

(See page 115.) 
That is the one which, somehow or other, make3 
the muscles move that draw the parts of the face, 
when ice look so differently, at different times. 

Those different looks are called expressions, and 
when a person has them often, and so as to show 
strongly what he means, or what he feels, we say, 
he has an expressive countenance. 

R. Mother, I like to see an expressive counte- 
nance, for, then, I can understand people much 
better. 

M. That is true, Robert. The exj)ressions of 



120 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the countenance, seem to be the very coming out 
of the soul. 

Many animals, }^ou know, have no such expres- 
sions of face at all ; and none of them have any thing 
like the different kinds, the beauty, the strength, and 
the meaning, which the expressions of the human 
face have. 

R. Mother, a dog sometimes has meaning in 
his face. 

M. He has, Robert, but only think how much 
more a little child has. 

A dog expresses a very few things by his face. 
A man can express,— oh ! how many different kinds 
of thoughts, and feelings, in his countenance. 

R. I have often been amused, mother, to see the 
deaf and dumb talking with each other, they have 
so many different kinds of expressions, in their coun- 
tenances. 

M. If they had not, my son, they could not un- 
derstand each other as well as they do ; and they 
could not understand each other, at all, about some 
things. 

R. I should think, mother, their teachers would? 
sometimes, grow very tired, — they have to make so 
many different kinds of expressions of countenance. 

M. I dare say, they do ; but without all these 
different expressions, it would be quite impossible to 
teach the deaf and dumb the meaning of a greaV 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY, 



121 



many words : so that they would not be able to learn 
how to read and write. 

R. God has been very kind to them, mother, in 
making so many muscles and nerves, for the face, 
to give it expression. 

M. He has, my son ; and this, I think, is the 
most wonderful part of the human body, and shows 
more than any other, the design, the contrivance, 
the skill, and the goodness, of God. 

When you see the picture of Abraham offering up 
Isaac, in the parlour, do you think it could have 
been made by chance ? 

R. No, mother. Chance, sometimes, makes 
something like trees and houses, on the panes of 
glass, in the winter, when they are covered with 
frost ; but I know, that chance could never make 
anv thing, at all, like that picture of Abraham and 
Isaac. 

M. It is not proper, Robert, to say that chance 
makes, even, the little trees and houses, on the win- 
dows, in winter. It is God who makes the cold, 
and the frost, just so as to have the glass covered 
with all the different shapes of things, that you see. 

If you was to take a handful of little pins, and 
throw them up, in the air, over the table, and they 
should fall down upon it, into beautiful shapes of 
houses, and trees, and animals, — that might be said 
to happen by chance. 

10* 



l%2 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. It oould never happen so, mother. 

M. If once in a hundred times, Robert, one shape 
should look a little like a house, or a tree, or, once in 
ten thousand times throwing them up, one should 
look like an elephant, you would wonder at it very 
much. 

It. I should, mother, but I do not wonder at 
merely seeing a picture, because I know ^ a painter 
made it. 

M. But do you not wonder at the skill of the 
painter, in giving such fine, and meaning, expres- 
sions to the countenances of Abraham and Isaac ? 

R. I do, mother, it has made me weep, some- 
times, to look at it. 

M. Now, think, Robert, how long the painter 
had to be learning ; how much he had to notice the 
human countenance ; and how many pictures he 
had to draw, and how he had to keep slowly improv- 
ing himself, till at last, he was able to draw the pic- 
ture which you know every body admires so much, 

R. Did it take him a year, to do all this, 
mother ? 

3VL Yes, my son, many years ; and, I dare say, 
if he could see the picture now, he could show you 
some things in it, that he could make better. 

Then, think, that in making this picture, he had 
first to design it ; how he would draw Abraham and 
Isaac, and how he would make them look. He 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



123 



had, too, to prepare all his paints, of many different 
colours, and his brushes, of different sizes, very 
nicely ; and when he began to draw, he had to do 
it very carefully ; and often to stop and think ; and 
he had to put on a little more paint in one place, 
and in another, or some of a different colour, before 
he could get it to suit him : and, then, he had to go 
back from the drawing and look at it, and make 
some more alterations ; and, after working, in this 
slow and patient way, for a long time, he had to ask 
some friends to look at it. and to tell him, if it had 
any faults ; and, then, he had to go to work again, 
and try to remove these faults : and so, after months 
of thought and labour, he made the beautiful picture 
which you now see. 

If this picture shows you. from the design, and 
contrivance, and skill, which appear in it, that it 
must have been made by some one, and by a paint- 
er who had a great deal of design, and contrivance, 
and skill, — what must v;e think, when we see so 
many hundreds and thousands of human counte- 
nances, and even those of little children, having 
so many different, and fine expressions 1 

R. We cannot but think, mother, that some one 
made them, and gave them these expressions. We 
know, that God did it, and that His design, and 
skill, and contrivance, in doing it, were very, very 
great, indeed. 



124 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. Yes, my son, and there is one thing, in 
which the human countenance far, far exceeds that 
drawn by the most skilful painter. 

R. What is that, mother ? 

M. The painter can give the face that he draws, 
but one, single expression, and that remains al- 
ways the same. 

R. But the human face has the power of chang- 
ing its expressions, as quick as we can think, or feel. 

Should the painter wish to give a new expression 
to the face which he has drawn, he must work at it 
again ; or, what is more probable, he must draw a 
new one. 

The motion of a few nerves and muscles, in an 
instant, gives new expressions to our faces, and 
speaks, before we can think of it, the language of 
our souls. 



DIALOGUE X. 

Mother. I have something more to say to you, 
my son, of the curious and wonderful way in which 
God has made our faces, so that they can speak the 
language of our souls. 

Robert. Mother, have the beasts such muscles 
and nerves as we have, to give expression to their 
faces ? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



125 



M. That was one thing which I was going to 
tell you. Some of them hare some muscles and 
nerves, in their faces, like ours ; but none of them as 
many ; and most of them have very few. indeed. 

R. That is the reason. I suppose, mother, why 
they have so little meaning in their faces. 

M. It is one reason. Besides, you know, they 
have no soul like ours. They do not think and feel, 
as we do. They have no feelings about what is 
right and wrong. But, even, if they had a soul like 
ours, it could not show itself, its thoughts and its 
feelings, on their faces, as our souls do : because they 
have not the muscles and nerves, that are necessary 
to give all kinds of expression to the face. 

R. I am very glad, mother, that God has made 
our faces so different from those of the beasts. 

WL Yes. my son. and if it was not so. only think, 
how stupid and dull we should all look. 

The little infant would not. as it does now, delight 
to look and look at its mother's face ; and there first 
begin to learn, that its mother loves it dearly, — is 
glad, when it is happy, — and is sorry, when it is in 
pain. 

And the little infant would not learn the meaning 
of a great many words which are spoken to it : if the 
looks of the person who speaks to it, did not help it 
to understand the meaning of the words. 

If the little infant, too, did not smile, and wee]), 



126 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and look happy, and look troubled ; how difficult it 
would often be, for the mother to know when it was 
well, or sick ; easy, or in pain. 

How could parents govern their children ; if they 
did not show by their eye, and by their looks, when 
they are pleased, and when they are displeased, — 
and when they really mean, that the children shall 
do, just as they are told to do. 

R. Mother, you know, I went to school, a little 
while, when you took a short journey. 

M. I remember it ; but what then ? 

R. The master said hardly any thing, at all, to 
make the scholars mind him. But he kept looking 
about, all the while ; and his eye, and his looks, and 
a little shake of his head, and, sometimes, of his fin- 
ger, kept the whole school in order. 

M. It would be well, my son, if all who keep 
school, would learn to do as he did. 

Here, you see, is another very important purpose, 
for which God made the human face to have so 
many different kinds of expression, — that one per- 
son might be the better able to govern others. 

And, if our faces did not have these different kinds 
of expression ; how difficult it would, often, be for 
us to know whether others felt happy, to see us hap- 
py, or sorry, to see us sorry. 

To feel so, is called sympathy, and, when per- 
sons feel so, we say, that they sympathize with us. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



127 



How miserable we should be, if no one ever sympa- 
thized with us, when we are in trouble ! And, if 
we are ever so happy, who wishes to be happy all 
alone ? 

Suppose, when your aunt comes to see you, after 
not having seen you for a long time, and shakes 
hands with you, and kisses you, — her face should 
have no more expression than that of your sister's 
little doll. 

R. I should not think, the kiss was worth much, 
mother. 

M. Or, suppose, when the doctor came to see 
you, he had looked, as if he did not feel at all sorry, 
that you was sick, — but only came to tell what must 
be done for you, just as you, sometimes, tell Tray, to 
go and drive the ducks away from the kitchen door. 

R. I am afraid, mother, it would have made me 
more sick. 

M. Well, so I could go on, Robert, to tell you of 
a great many, other ways in which it is very impor- 
tant, and useful, and pleasant, that our faces should 
have many, different kinds of expression ; so, that 
if they did not, we should feel very uncomfortable, 
and often miserable, in seeing, and talking with, our 
fellow men. 

And, if different faces had not different looks, do 
you think, we could always tell one person from 
another ? 



128 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. We might, some persons, mother, because 
their faces are larger, or smaller, or lighter, or darker, 
or are shaped differently. 

M. That is true ; but I think, there are but few 
that we should always know in these ways. 

Almost every body has some looks, and expres- 
sions, which belong to himself, which he commonly 
has, and which others do not have, or not so com- 
monly as he has. 

It is this which principally helps us to know the 
same person at all times, and to know different per- 
sons, so as not to mistake one for another. 

Did you ever think, how many mistakes we should 
be constantly making, and how much trouble and 
confusion there would be, if we could not, very soon, 
tell one person from another ? 

R. I never did, mother, but I see it now. People, 
then, would look to us, just as a flock of sheep do, — 
a great many of them, exactly alike. 

M. Yes, my son ; and thus, you see, that there 
is still another important reason, why God has given 
so many different looks, and expressions, to human 
faces, — and in doing it, He shows you His wonder- 
ful design, contrivance, skill, and goodness. 

R. It is, indeed, wonderful, mother, that while 
there are thousands and millions of people in the 
world, hardly any two of them look exactly alike. 
It is strange, that I never thought of this before. 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



12* 



M. It is so common a thing, that we do not think 
of it. But it is not the lass wonderful, because it is 
common. Often the most common things show us 
most of the wisdom and goodness of God, and this is 
one of them. 

How wonderful ! Here is a souL or spirit, within 
Us, not like any thing that we can see. or hear, or 
smell, or taste, or touch, — but wholly unlike it. 
This soul is in a body, made up of a thousand, cu- 
rious, different parts. These parts are made, and 
put together, so as to be exactly suited to each other, 
and to the whole body. Nothing is in the wrong 
place ; and nothing goes wrong ; unless the body is 
sick, or is hurt. 

All this is done, that the body may eat, and drink, 
and sleep, and live ; — just as the bodies of beasts do? 
Oh ! no. This curious body is made, and kept 
alive, and all its parts in order, that it may be a pro- 
per and convenient body for the soul to be in, and 
use for its own improvement, and comfort, and hap- 
piness, and for that of others. 

For our very bodies are so made, as to show us, 
that God designed, that we should live and act, 
not for ourselves alone, bvt for others, — and, that 
we should do all V)e can, to make each other good^ 
and happy. 

The muscles and nerves of the face, are one, 
very striking proof of this. 

II 



130 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



You have seen what some of them were made 
for, to give expression to the face, and for this pur- 
pose only. 

How wonderful ! the soul, that immaterial some- 
thing toithin us, showing its secret thoughts and 
feelings, on a part of our material body, — by the 
help of a great many, curious nerves and muscles, 
that move the face in a thousand, different ways ; — 
sometimes when we think to have them move so, 
and sometimes, when, we do not. 

This soul, thus shows its thoughts and feelings, 
that they may be seen, and understood, and felt," by 
other souls, like itself, dwelling in other bodies, like 
the body in which it dwells. 

And, thus, these souls are the better able to know 
each other ; to converse with each other ; to sympa- 
thize with each other ; to aid each other ; and to 
make each other good and happy. 

Who but the Infinite and Eternal Mind, — the 
great Spirit, whom we call God, — could have so 
made our souls and bodies, and given these wonder- 
ful powers of expression to our faces. 

Who that looks on the human face, can doubt } 
for one moment, that there is a God, of great 
power, and wisdom, and skill, and goodness ? 

R. I am sure, / cannot, mother, and I do not 
think, that any body else can. 

M. You see, my son, not only the design, and 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



131 



contrivance, and skill of God, in having made your 
face as He has ; but His goodness, also, in making 
its various expressions, the means of your own hap- 
piness, and of that of others. 

Remember, how ungrateful you are for all this 
goodness, and what a bad use you make of your 
curious and wonderful countenance, when you think 
and feel wrong ; and these wrong thoughts and 
feelings show themselves in your countenance, — and, 
thus, make yourself even more unhappy, and others, 
unhappy, too, in looking at you. 

R. Mother, you know the man that struck me, 
in the street, one day, what an ugly-looking face he 
has. 

M. Yes, and do you learn from it, not to have 
any wrong thoughts and feelings. He has been so 
often angry, and in a great rage, that now, he looks 
angry, almost all the time. He can hardly look 
pleasant, if he tries. 

R. How different uncle John looks, mother. 

M. And why, Robert 3 Because he has, for a 
long time, had kind and benevolent feelings, — desir- 
ing to love and obey God, and to do good to others ; 
peaceful and happy himself, and delighted to make, 
and to see, others so. 

Do you endeavour to feel, and to do, so. Pray to 
God, to enable you to feel, and to do, so. Never, 
even think of saying any thing that is not true. 



132 



THE YOUTH^S BOOK 



Be frank, and tell what you know, whenever you 
ought to tell it ; and, if, at any time, persons ask 
you to tell them things which you ought not to tell 
them, refuse to do it, mildly but firmly. Strive 
against all wrong thoughts and feelings. Endeavour 
to have kind and generous ones. Seek to make 
others happy. Above all, love, fear, and obey, God ; 
and looking to Him for help, endeavour to do your 
duty. Then, be afraid of nothing, and of nobody. 

When you are speaking to others, look (hem full 
in the face. Do not try to hide your feelings. Let 
them show themselves in your countenance. Let 
your eye, and your countenance, have all the ex- 
pression which your feelings would give. 

Do all this. Try to do it. And your face will 
acquire habits of expression that will make you feel 
happy yourself, and increase the happiness of others. 

In this way you will best show your thankfulness 
to God, for giving you the power of expression in 
your countenance, and you will make that use of 
this power , which will do the most good to yourself, 
and to others. 

R. Mother, will you be so good as tell me, when 
I have any cross or unpleasant looks, so that I may 
try to look differently. 

M. I am glad to hear you ask me to do that, my 
son. But have right thoughts and feelings, and 



ir 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 135 

there will be but little danger of your face ever having 
unpleasant expressions. 

But dinner is ready, and we must stop talking. 



DIALOGUE XL 

Robert. Mother, I have been to see an elephant, 
this morning. Uncle John took me. 

Mother. It was very kind in him to do so. 
And what do you think of the elephant, Robert ? 
Does this picture look like his head ? 

R. Yes, exactly. He is a very wonderful ani- 
mal, mother. I thought, at first, he looked very 
ugly and frightful, he was so large, and heavy, and 
clumsy. 1 was a good deal afraid of him. But, 
pretty soon, w T hen the keeper spoke to him, and told 
him to do some things, I found, that he was very 
gentle, and kind, and that he was not so awkward, 
as I, at first, thought he was. He could not do much, 
though, if he had not that long trunk. 

M. That long trunk, Robert, is one more, very 
striking proof of the design, and contrivance, and 
skill, of our Heavenly Father. 

He has taken care, in a great variety of ways, to 
provide for the wants, and for the comfort, of beasts, 
and birds, and fishes, and insects, as well as for ours. 



136 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



And, as the end for which He made them, is very 
different from that for which he made us, so He has 
given them bodies different from ours ; and bodies 
exactly suited to the different places and ways, in 
which they live. 

R. Yes, mother, how different a bird is made 
from a fish. 

M. True, my son, and how many different kinds? 
of birds there are ; and in many things, how differ- 
ent they are made from each other, so as to be suited 
to their different ways of living, and to the country, 
and to the climate, in which they live. 

Just so it is with beasts, also. There are a great 
many different kinds, and each kind has something 
peculiar to itself, to lead us to admire the wisdom, 
and power, and goodness, of God. 

R. The elephant, mother, has something very 
peculiar, indeed, — that long trunk of his. 

M. Yes, and the elephant has great need of his 
trunk. He would be very helpless without it. 

The neck of four-footed animals is usually long, 
in proportion to the length of their legs, so that they 
may be able to stoop down, and reach their food, on 
the ground, without difficulty. 

R. Mother, I should think, some animals would 
get very tired, holding their heads down, as long as 
they do, to get their food. 



OK NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



137 



M. It would be so, my son ; but God has provi- 
ded something, to prevent this difficulty. 

There is a tough, strong, tendon-like strap, braced 
from their head to the middle of the back, which 
supports the weight of the head ; so that, although 
it is large and heavy, it may be held down long, 
without any pain, or uneasiness. 

We do not have this strap, because we do not 
need to bend our head in the same way as beasts do. 
Our heads are sufficiently supported without it. 

God provides such things, only when they are 
necessary ; and this shores, how He has design 
in every thing that He makes. 

The Elephant, as you saw, is a very tall animal, 
and his head is a good way from the ground ; and 
yet his neck is very short, so that he cannot, without 
kneeling, or lying down, bring his mouth to the 
ground. 

This short neck, so different from that of other 
animals, whose heads are far from the ground, has 
one great advantage. It makes it so much the easier 
for the elephant to support the weight of his very 
large head, and heavy tusks. 

But somehow or other, the difficulty of having so 
short a neck, especially in getting food and drink, 
was to be remedied. And the admirable trunk, 
which God designed, and made, on purpose for the 
elephant, removes entirely all thi3 difficulty. Still 



138 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



more, it has many advantages, and very great ones, 
too, over the long necks of other animals, 

R. I saw the elephant do some things with his 
trunk, mother, which other animals could not do, 
with their long necks, and teeth, and paws, all to- 
gether. 

But do tell me a little more particularly about the 
trunk. Is it bone, or flesh, mother ? 

M. It is not bone, my son ; it is a hollow, fleshy 
tube, made of muscles, and nerves, and covered with 
a skin of a blackish colour, like that of the rest of the 
body. 

R. There must be a great many muscles in it ? 
I should think, mother, or the elephant could not 
make so many different kinds of motions with it. 

M. You are right, Robert. Mr. Cuvier, a very 
learned man, in France, who knows a great deal, 
and has written several curious books, about the dif- 
ferent kinds of animals, tells us, that he has found, 
there are more than thirty thousand distinct mus- 
cles, in the trunk of an El e pliant I 

R. Oh ! mother, if he is not a good man, I should 
almost think, he says what is not true. 

M. There is no reason, my son, to doubt the 
truth of what he tells us. There are some things 
even more wonderful than this, in some little insects. 

There is a small kind of caterpillar, that has four 
thousand muscles, in its little body. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



141 



But there is something about the eyes of some in- 
sects, yet more wonderful. 

A common fly, such as we see about the house, 
does not move its eyes, as we do. They are fixed 
fast in its head, and do not turn. But this difficulty 
is remedied by a very curious contrivance. Each 
eye is made up of a great many little eyes ; some- 
thing like what you have seen in the stopple of a 
decanter, so that when you look through it, you 
seem to see a great many of the same kind of tiling. 

These little eyes are hemispheres, or half balls, 
and they are so placed, that they lock different ways ; 
so that the fly can look about, sometimes through 
one, and sometimes through another, and see nearly, 
if not quite, as well as we can with our eyes. 

In the two eyes of a common fly, there are eight 
thousand such smaller eyes. In the two eyes of the 
dragon-fly, there are twenty-five thousand such 
smaller eyes. 

Each of these smaller eyes, in the large eye of the 
fly, and of the dragon-fly, sees perfectly of 'itself in 
one direction, and is made up of still smaller parts, 
and has nerves to give it the power of sight. 

What must be the fineness of these smaller parts 
and nerves ! 

Here is a picture of a very small part of the large 
aye of a dragon-fly, greatly magnified. 
R. How was all this found out, mother ? 
12 



142 



THE YOUTH*S BOOK 



M. By the help of very powerful microscopes, 
which magnify things, and make them look, millions 
of times larger than they really are. 

With one kind of microscope that I have seen, a 
little insect was magnified five hundred and seventy 
millions of times. 

R. Well, I do not doubt any longer, mother, that 
there are thirty thousand muscles in the trunk of an 
elephant. 

And how many nerves there must be, to help all 
these muscles to move, whenever the elephant wishes 
to have them move. 

M. Yes, my son, and it has been found out that 
the trunk alone has as many nerves, as all the rest of 
the body has. 

It is the number, the fineness, and the variety of 
these nerves, that enable the trunk to do all the 
curious things that it was made to do. 

An elephant that is fourteen feet high, has a trunk 
about eight feet long, and five feet and a half round, 
at its thickest part, next the head. 

This trunk, as you saw, can be made shorter or 
longer, as the animal chooses, and can be moved^ 
with great ease, in every possible direction. 

It has such prodigous strength, that the elephant 
can quickly knock a man down with it ; and can 
pull up a tree of moderate size by the roots ; and 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



143 



break off the largest branches ; and raise very heavy 
weights. 

On the underside, there are some things like little 
claws, or like the feet of a caterpillar, which take 
hold of what the elephant wishes to grasp, and 
help to hold it faster ; and at the end of the trunk, 
the skin is lengthened about five inches, in the form 
of a finger. With this finger, he can pick up a pin 
from the ground, or the smallest piece of money ; 
he can select herbs and flowers, and take them one 
by one ; he can untie knots ; he can open and shut 
gates, by turning the keys, or pushing back the 
bolts ; and, with this finger, an elephant has been 
taught to make regular marks, like letters, with an 
instrument as small as a pen. 

In the middle of the finger, there is a hollow 
place like a cup, and in the bottom of the cup, are 
two holes, or nostrils, through which the animal 
smells and breathes. 

By placing the edge of the end of his trunk on 
the surface of any heavy thing, and then suddenly 
drawing in his breath, so as to get all the air out of 
the inside of the trunk, the thin^ he wishes to raise 
will stick fast to the end of the trunk, and he can 
lift it up easily. 

R. Mother, I wonder if this is not something 
like what the boys call a sucker ? 

M. What is that, Robert ? 



144 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. Did you never see one, mother ? They take 
a round piece of pretty soft leather, and fasten a 
stout piece of twine to the middle of it. Then the 
leather is soaked in water, and put on the top of a 
large, heavy stone, and pressed down on it very 
hard with the foot. The boy pulls up the string ; 
the leather rises up a little in the middle, but all 
round the edges it sticks very tight to the stone ; 
and the stone is lifted up, ever so high, without 
falling off from the leather. 

But if the edge of the leather is pulled up, ever 
so little, it will come off from the stone, and the 
string will not raise the stone. 

Mother, what is the reason of this ? I do not 
understand it at all. 

M. 1 do not know that I can explain it exactly 
to you, but I will try. 

The air that vje breathe, and which is all 
around us, has weight. It is, all the w 7 hile, pres- 
sing, with equal weight, in all directions. When 
you are standing, the air presses against the fore 
part of your body, and against the sides, and against 
your back, with equal weight. 

On every square inch, it presses with a weight 
equal to fifteen pounds. 

On the whole body of a man, it presses with 
a weight equal to twenty, or thirty, thousand 
founds. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



145 



If the air pressed upon you, only on the top of 
your head, it would crush you down to the ground, 
instantly. If it pressed, only on the forepart of 
your body, it would throw you down backwards, 
with great force. 

It is because the air presses upon you equally, 
in all directions, and that it is inside of your body, 
too, that you can stand up, and walk about with- 
out difficulty. 

If you put a quill, with the end cut square off, 
to the end of your tongue, and draw the air out of 
the quill, quickly, it will stick very tight to your 
tongue. 

The reason of this is, that there is no air, inside 
of the quill, to press against the air, on the outside ; 
and so the air, all pressing, with great weight, one 
way, on your tongue, and on the outside of the 
quill, presses them together, and makes the quill 
stick to the tongue, until the air is, in some way, 
brought into the inside of the quill again. 

In the same way, the leather, about which you 
told me, is pressed down so hard against the stone, 
and lies so close to it, that the air, between the lea- 
ther, and the stone, is forced away, so that there is 
no air there. The leather, when you draw it up 
with the string, rises a little in the middle, and 
leaves a hollow place there, in which there is no 
air. The air, then, on the outside of the leather, 
12* 



146 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and all round, and underneath the stone, presses 
with great weight ; and presses the leather and 
stone very tight together, because there is no air 
between them, to press against the air on the outside. 

When you lift up the edge of the leather, as you 
told me, and let the air in, it rushes, with great 
weight, between the leather and the stone, and 
they separate from each other. 

R. I think, mother, I understand pretty well 
now, how the elephant, by putting the edge of his 
trunk on a heavy thing, and then drawing all the 
air out of it, is able to lift it up, without any diffi- 
culty. The air which is under, and all round, the 
heavy thing, and the trunk, presses them tight to- 
gether, and makes the heavy thing stick to the 
trunk. 

M. You are right, my son, and when the ele- 
phant Mils his trunk with air again, this air presses, 
from the inside of the trunk, against the heavy thing, 
just as hard, as the air on the outside does, so that 
there is no force to keep it up, any longer, and it 
instantly falls down. 

With this trunk, the animal takes all his food 
from the ground, and puts it into his mouth, just as 
we do ours with our hand. 

When he drinks, too, he first draws up the water 
into his trunk, and them empties it into his mouth. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



147 



R. How many things, mother, he can do with 
his trunk ! 

M. Yes, my son, on some accounts, it is even 
more curious and wonderful than your arm and 
hand, which I have explained to you. 

The trunk of an elephant is to him, what their 
meek is, to other animals. 

It is a nose, with which he smells and breathes. 

It is an arm and hand, with a very curious fin- 
ger, with which he feels, and does a great many 
things, easily and quickly. 

It has been said, that he carries his nose in his 
hand : and it might have been said, also, that he 
breathes with his hand. How strange it would 
seem to you and me, if we should smell, and breathe, 
and feel, and take things, with one of our fingers. 

R. Mother, if I go to see the elephant again, I 
will ask the keeper to let me examine the finger at 
the end of the trunk, very particularly. 

M. I dare say, he will be willing to let you 
do it. 

But I cannot tell you any thing more about the 
elephant, now. 

His trunk, as you have seen, is a most curious 
instrument, made, in part, to help the animal to get 
his food ; because his neck is so short ; and, be- 
sides this, to enable him to smell and breathe, and 
do a great many things which are necessary for his 



148 



TUB YOUTH'S BOOK 



comfort. Do you not think, this is another very 
striking proof of the design, contrivance, skill, and 
goodness cf God ? 

R. I do, indeed, mother. 

M. Well, my son, men, beasts, birds, fishes, 
insects, trees, flowers, and vegetables, have hun- 
dreds, and thousands, of other things quite as 
wonderful, as any thing that 1 have yet explained 
to you. We cannot look around us, without see- 
ing fproofs every where, that there is a God, and 
that He is a Being of infinite power, wisdom, and 
goodness. 

We may well say, as David did, in the Psalms 
which he wrote : 

" O Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wis- 
dom, hast thou made them all : the earth is full of 
thy riches." 

V The Lord is good to all ; and his tender mer- 
cies are over all his works." 



DIALOGUE XIL 

Mother. I explained to you, yesterday, my 
son, about the trunk of an elephant, with which he 
can do a great many things ; and how necessary 
it is for him, that he may get his food and drink. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



14S 



It is wonderful, to see the many different ways 
in which beasts, birds, fishes, and insects get their 
food ; and also how God has formed them, that 
they may do this ; and particularly how their 
mouths are made, to take their food, after they 
have found it. 

Our mouths are flat. They are made, not to 
pick up, or take hold of, our food. Our hands do 
this, and put the food into the mouth. 

But where animals have no hands, or no trunk, 
their months have to pick up, and take hold, of 
their food. And as their food is of a great many 
different kinds, and found in a great many differ- 
ent places, and to be taken, a great many different 
ways ; their mouths had to be made of a great 
many different shapes and sizes, and so as to 
have a great many different motions. 

Only think, how much design, contrivance, and 
skill, was necessary to do all this, so as to provide 
for the comfort, and nourishment, and life, of so 
many millions of living beings. 

Each of them has a mouth, and yet, in how many 
different ways their mouths are made ; and the 
mouth of one kind, would be exceedingly incon- 
venient, and, often, entirely useless, if it had been 
made for a different kind. 

You have seen different kinds of locks ; some 
for front-doors ; some for parlour-doors ; some for 



150 



THEf YOUTHS BOOK 



cellar-doors ; some for bureaus ; and some for 
trunks. 

R. Yes, mother ; and some, very curious, little 
padlocks. You know, uncle John has one for his 
travelling bag. 

M. Well, Robert, these different kinds of locks 
are all alike in some things, and they were all 
made, with one design, to fasten something up 
tight ; so that it could not be opened without the 
key. 

But when you see them unlike in other things, 
you know, at once, that they were made, with an- 
other design, also, — to have them suited to things 
of different sizes and uses, so as to fasten them 
tight. 

R. Yes, mother, and I am sure that a door- 
lock never was made to be put on to a trunk. 

M. When we see, then, so many different kinds 
of mouths, each suited to a particular kind of ani- 
mal, that has to get its food, in its ov^n way, we 
are sure that God had a particular design in ma- 
king them so ; and this is one, other, striking proof 
of His wisdom and goodness. 

R. Mother, do tell me about some of the curi- 
ous kinds of mouths that animals have. 

M. Did you you ever see a wood-pecker? 

R. Oh ! yes, and I have wondered what he 
keeps knocking against the tree for, so long, and 



on Natural theology. 



153 



so hard, with his bill. I should think, he would 
get very tired, sometimes. 

M. He is hungry, and is working for his food. 
You would be glad to work, too, Robert, for your 
food, if you could not get it, in any other w 7 ay. 
And you should be willing to work for it, which, 
perhaps, you may yet have to do. 

R. What is the wood-pecker's food, mother ? 

M. It is, principally, worms and insects, which 
he finds in the trunks of old, decayed trees. 

R. But why does he make so much noise in 
finding them. 

M. The worms and insects are deep in the 
wood, where other kinds of birds never could reach 
them. 

Here is a drawing of the bill and tongue of the 
wood-pecker, which are made on purpose to en- 
able him to get his food. 

His bill is long, straight, hard, and sharp ; and 
like a wedge, at the tip of it. His tongue is round, 
something like a worm ; very long, so that it can 
come out three or four inches beyond the bill ; and 
has at the end of it a stiff, sharp, bony thorn. This 
bony end of the tongue has little teeth, as it were, 
on each side of it, standing backward, like the barb 
of a fish-hook. 

With his bill he chisels out a hole in the wood ; 
and this is what he was doing, when you saw him 
13 



154 



THE ¥OTJTH ? S BOOK 



knocking, (as you said,) and heard the great noise 
that he made. He keeps chiseling, till he comes 
to where the worms or insects are ; and, then, he 
suddenly darts out his long tongue upon them ; 
seizes them with the sharp, hooked end of it ; and 
draws them into his mouth. 

The wood-pecker chisels a hole, for its nest, in 
which to lay its eggs ; and these holes, often, are 
very deep, so that the eggs may be safe. The 
eggs are usually laid on the rotten wood ; but, some- 
times, moss or wool is put into the nest, for the 
eggs to lie on. 

You see what contrivance and skill are shown in 
the bill and tongue of this curious bird. You know 
the design with which they were made, — to ena- 
ble the wood-pecker to get food, and to make a 
nest ; and you are just as sure that God made them, 
and made them for this purpose, as that a chisel 
was made by some one, and that it was made to 
cut with, into wood. A man has a mallet, to drive 
the chisel with ; but the wood-pecker's head is his 
mallet , and his skull is unusually thick, that his head 
may bear the jarring which his hard knocks make. 

I read, lately, in one of the newspapers, an ac- 
count of a wood-pecker, somewhere in Massachu- 
setts, which I think will interest you. 

He made a deep hole, just as exactly and neatly 
as if it had been made with a mallet and chisel, to 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



157 



the very centre of the branch of a young, tough, 
white-oak tree. The branch was from three to 
five inches round. He did this to find a worm, 
called a borer. The worm had made a hole in the 
branch, about as large round as a goose-quill, four 
or five inches below the hole chiseled out by the 
wood-pecker. The worm was going upward, in- 
side of the branch, when the wood-pecker made his 
hole, just in the right place, to catch the worm with 
his barbed tongue, and devour him. 

These worms injure the trees ; and the wood- 
pecker, and other birds, which devour worms and 
insects, do a great deal of good. It is quite a pity, 
that they should be killed. 

R. Have any other birds, mother, as curious 
bills, as that of the wood-pecker ? 

M. Yes, my son ; there is a bird called the 
cross-bill, that has this name on account of its bill, 
the two parts of which are so bent, that they cross 
one another near the point, sometimes on one side, 
and sometimes on the other, as you see in this 
drawing. The bill is sharp, and single-edged, near 
the point. They live in cold and mountainous 
countries, in the forests of fir and pine trees. 

The seeds of the trees are in something of the 
shape of a cone, or loaf of white sugar, only a good 
deal smaller, and these cones are full of something 
like scales. The cross-bill divides these scales very 

13* 



158 



THE YOUTH S BOOK 



dexterously with its bill, and picks out the seed ; 
which it can do, if they are ever so small, by bring- 
ing the two pointed ends of its bill exactly to- 
gether. 

Sometimes they have been seen in orchards of 
fruit trees, and they will easily divide an apple, so 
as to get the seeds. 

R. Mother, do the bills of birds grow dull by 
using them ? 

M. No, my son, unless they live to be very old. 
I have read of a goldfinch which was twenty-three 
years old. The people who kept it were obliged, 
once a week, to scrape its nails and bill, that it 
might eat, drink, and sit on its bar. It could not 
fly, and all its feathers had become white. 

R. Mother, ducks and geese have very different 
kinds of bills from those that you have been ex- 
plaining to me. 

M. Yes, they have long, broad bills, somewhat 
like a spoon, which enables them to get their food, 
under the water, and in the ground, and in muddy 
places. The inside of the bill, near the edges, 
has rows of short and strong pointed prickles, as 
you see in the drawing. But they are not teeth, 
to chew with. They are made, to help the bird to 
find its food. For when the duck plunges its bill 
down into the water, or mud, it draws them up, 
and whatever may be in them, through the rows of 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



161 



prickles on the inside of the bill, catching what is 
good and pleasant for food, and throwing away all 
the rest. 

And, that the duck may thus select its food the 
better, the bill is covered with a skin, and there are 
large nerves to give it feeling, which run down 
quite to the end of it. 

How necessary such a kind of bill is, for a bird 
that seeks its food as the duck does, and gropes 
for it, out of sight. As it does not always see its 
food, it can find it, and tell when it is good and 
pleasant, by feeling. 

Here again, how striking is the design, contri- 
vance, and skill which are shown us, in the bill of 
the duck, that is made so differently from that of 
the wood-pecker, and of the cross-bill, because it 
has to get its food, in a way so different from that 
in which they get theirs. 

There is another bird, called the oyster-catcher, 
that gets its food in a still different way, and has a 
bill made so as to be exactly suited to its wants. 

Here is a drawing of one. 

It lives principally on oysters, and other kinds of 
shell-fish ; the shells of which it opens. That it 
may be able to do this, it has a long, stout bill, 
shaped like a wedge ; and narrow next to the head, 
that it may work the more easily in the sand. 

These birds not only open the shell-fish with 



162 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



their bill ; but if they find one fastened tight to a 
rock, they will knock it off, as skilfully with their 
bill, as a man would do, with a stone. 

R. Mother, is there any thing, like this, as curi- 
ous about fishes, as there is about birds ? 

M. Yes, my son, quite so. Indeed, I have read 
of one fish, that has a way of getting its food, more 
strange than any thing which I have told you about 
the birds. 

What should you think of a fish shooting flies, as 
a man does birds, that it may get them to eat ? 

R. Is that true, mother ? 

M. Yes, my son. There is a fish, that lives in 
the Indian seas, called a choetodon, which has a 
snout, like a tube. 

R. What is it like, mother, that I have seen ? 

M. If you cut a quill off square, at both ends, 
and take the pith out, it will be a small tube. You 
know you can blow water through it, some dis- 
tance, and with some force. 

The fish has a snout, something like this, through 
which it can shoot a drop of water, with so sure an 
aim, and with so much force, that it can hit an 
insect, from four to six feet off, and thus kill it, or 
stun it, so that it falls down on the water, and the 
fish gets it for food. 

It shoots the insect, too, while it is flying, and 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



163 



this is what very few, even of the most skilful gun- 
ners, can do. 

These fish have a very beautiful shape, and a 
great variety of brilliant colours. They are some- 
times caught, and kept in a large vessel of water, 
and amuse the people very much, by their great 
dexterity, in shooting. For if a fly is put on the 
edge of the vessel, the fish immediately perceives 
it, and shoots at it so exactly, as very seldom, in- 
deed, to miss it. 

Is all this chance ? Strange, indeed, that this 
fish was made so, and to be able to do so, by 
chance ! 

Does a gun chance to be made ; and a man 
chance to find it, and to know w 7 hat it was made 
for ; and, when he feels hungry, because he has no 
other food, chance to go into the woods, and chance 
to keep looking after a bird, to shoot it ; and when 
he sees one, chance to shoot it. and carry it home 
to eat ? 

Was there no design, contrivance, and skill, in 
the making of the gun ; and none in the man's 
using it ? Who made the tube-like snout of the 
choetodon, and who taught this fish how to use it ? 

R. Mother, He must be a fool, who says, there 
is no God. 

M. Yes, my son, The fool hath said, in his 
heart, there is no God. 



164 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



It is because they are so wicked, that some men 
wish to believe, there is no God ; and, perhaps, in 
a few instances, have thought that they did believe 
so. 

But they quite forget one thing. If it has hap- 
pened, by chance, that there are men, with won- 
derful souls and bodies ; and that they have so 
much design, and skill, and contrivance, as to make 
the thousands of curious and useful things w 7 hich 
we daily see ; it may have happened, that there 
is a God. 

And if it has happened, that there is a God ; 
why may He not have vastly more design, and 
skill, and contrivance than men have ? 

How much more a man has, than a dog. It has 
happened so, at any rate, for we see it, and know 
it. It has happened, too, that some men have a 
great deal more wisdom and power than others. 

It has happened, that men make curious and 
wonderful things. May it not have happened, that 
God made the millions of curious and wonderful 
things that we see, which we know, men have not 
made, and which, we also know, it is impossible 
for them to make ?■ 

And if so, how vast the wisdom and power of 
God must be ! They are so vast, that we cannot 
think how vast they are. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



165 



It may have happened, then, that there is a God, 
of infinite wisdom and power. 

The atheist is often afraid, to do certain, wrong 
things ; because he knows, it may happen, that 
his fellow-men will despise him, and avoid him, and 
have nothing to do with him, or, if the things are 
bad enough, that they will even put him in prison, 
or hang him. 

All this has often happened to bad men, notwith- 
standing they were able to hide the wrong things 
that they did, from the knowledge of every body, 
for a long time. They may have done this, for 
years, but it has often, very often, happened, that 
it was found out, at last. They did not expect, 
that it would be so. They felt quite safe. But, at 
length, they were found out, to their great surprise 
and shame, and were sadly disgraced and punished. 

May it not happen, that for his sins, even the most 
secret ones, the atheist will be punished in a future 
world ? Cannot God find his sins out, if his fellow- 
men can find them out ? 

It happens, as the atheist says, by chance, that he 
often suffers very severe punishment in this world, 
for doing wrong ; may it not happen, that he will 
suffer, still more severely, in the future world ? 
Does chance do so many, wonderful, and right, and 
good things in this world, and none in the next ? 
\\ 



166 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



The atheist says, all things have happened, and 
continue to happen, by chance. 

What if it is so ? suppose it is so ; still he is a 
very unwise and daring man. 

For why is it, as you have seen, any more im- 
probable, that it should happen, that there is an 
infinitely wise and powerful God, who will punish 
sin in the future world, than that there are men, 
who have but little wisdom and power, but who 
yet have prudence and strength enough, to punish 
each other, when they do wrong, in this world ? 

What a risk, then, the atheist runs ! The Bible 
tells us, that it is a fearful thing to fall into the 
hands of the living God ! 

How foolish, as well as wicked, are those who 
doubt that there is a God ; or who deny his right 
to govern them ; or who do not love Him, and do 
all that He has commanded us to do ! 

Think of these truths, my son, and may God en- 
able you to understand them, to believe them, and 
to feel them. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



169 



DIALOGUE XIII. 

Mother. I have told you, Robert, about a fish 
that shoots water at insects, that are flying above 
it, and thus gets them for food. Now. I am going 
to tell you about a fish that has a very curious way 
of defending itself against the attacks of larger 
fishes, which come to devour it, — and of prevent- 
ing resistance in smaller ones, that it wishes to seize 
for food. 

Robert. I suppose it has a very large mouth, 
and sharp teeth, mother. 

M. No, my son, if you was to look at it, you 
would not see any thing about it, that looked, as if 
the fish had much power to do any thing, only to 
swim. 

It looks like an eel : indeed, it is called the elec- 
trical eel. Look at this drawing of it. It is very 
common in South America. It is from three to 
five feet long, and about a foot round in the thick- 
est part. Some have been found more than twenty 
feet long, w T hich have such great power, that if a 
man only touches them, they can kill him instantly. 

R. Mother, if I did not know, that you never 
tell me any thing that is not true, 1 could not be- 
lieve it. 

M. You see, my son, the advantage of always 
speaking the truth. If I had, sometimes, deceived 

14* 



170 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



you, you would not know whether to believe me, 
now, or not. 

R. Mother, do explain to me about this won- 
derful fish. 

M. I will try to, so far as I can ; but there are 
some things about it which I do not understand 
myself, and many things, too, which you cannot 
understand, till you grow older, and have studied 
a good many books. But I will explain to you 
enough to show you, in this curious fish, one more 
striking proof of the design, contrivance, and skill, 
ofGod. 

You have seen the lightning. 

R. Oh ! yes, mother, do you not remember the 
terrible thunder-storm last summer, when you and 
I were sitting in the parlour, and, all at once, we 
saw the lightning strike a tall tree, in the field ? 
What a loud clap of thunder there was, at the 
same time. 

M. I remember it very well, my son, and how 
we went, the next day, to look at the tree, and saw 
it split quite through, in the middle, and a good deal 
burned. 

But do you remember, Robert, how strangely 
we both felt, as if something had struck us, and 
given us a jar all over ? 

R. Yes, mother ; and you told me, you thought 
the lightning must have struck the lightning-rod on 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



171 



our house, too, and run down into the ground, 
without doing the house any harm. 

M. In a thunder-storm, my son, the clouds are 
filled with something which is called electricity. 
It is not known, what it is ; — what it does, is all 
that is known. 

One cloud, sometimes, has more electricity in it, 
than another cloud has. If these two clouds come 
near each other, the electricity will go from the 
cloud which has the most, to that which has the 
least. This it does very suddenly ; and in passing, 
thus, from one cloud to the other, that bright some- 
thing, like fire, is seen, which w T e call lightning ; 
and soon the noise is heard, which w r e call, 
thunder. 

The tree that we saw struck, had less electricity 
in it, than the cloud which passed over it had. The 
electricity went suddenly from the cloud to the 
tree. It appeared in the bright flash of lightning 
that we saw, and we say, the lightning struck the 
tree. 

About eighty years ago, Dr. Franklin, a coun- 
tryman of ours, made a kite out of silk, and raised 
it high up in the air, during a thunder-storm. 

After some time, the electricity passed from the 
clouds to the kite, and came down the string, at 
the end of which was a key. Dr. Franklin put his 



172 



THIS YOUTH'S BOOK 



knuckles to the key, and suddenly bright sparks 
came from it, to his knuckles. 

R. Mother, that was lightning ; did it not kill 
him ? 

M. No, my son, the quantity was too small, to 
do him any harm. But, sometimes, there is sa 
much electricity in a flash of lightning, that when, 
it strikes persons, it kills them instantly. 

There is a machine, called an electrical machine* 
a part of which is a large, round, hollow cylinder 
of glass, that is made to turn round with a handle.. 

When this is turned round, somehow or other^ 
electricity is made, and comes from the glass, to a 
long tube of brass, with a brass ball on the end of it. 

If any one puts his knuckle to this brass ball, 
bright sparks of fire will come from it, just as they 
did from the key on the string of Dr. Franklin's 
kite, 

R. And does this machine make lightning, 
mother ? 

M. Yes, my son, it may be said to do so ; for 
it makes the same electricity appear, in bright 
sparks, which the clouds make to appear, in light- 
ning, during a thunder-storm. 

R. Does it not hurt a person, mother, to have 
the sparks from the brass ball, strike his knuckle ? 

M. No, my son, very little, if any. But there 



ON KATTRAL THEOLOGY. 



173 



is a way of getting a great deal of electricity, so as 
to hurt a person very much, or even to kill him. 

A curious vial is made, with a brass rod going 
into it, and a brass ball at the end of the rod. While 
the glass cylinder is turned, and the electricity is 
passing from it, to the long brass tube ; if the ball 
of the vial is held near to the ball of the tube, sparks 
of electricity will go from the ball of the tube to 
the ball of the vial. These sparks will keep going, 
and the electricity will go down the wire into the 
vial, and the inside of the vial will have a good deal 
of electricity in it. 

Then the cylinder is no longer turned, and the 
vial is set on a table. 

If any body touches the bottom of the vial, with 
one hand, and, then, brings the other hand very 
near to the brass ball of the vial, he will instantly 
feel a hard shock in his wrists, elbows, and breast, 
as if somebody had struck him. The electricity 
goes, as quick as lightning, from the brass ball, 
through the person who touches it. 

If one hundred, or more, persons should take 
hold of each others' hands, and stand round in a 
ring ; and the person, at one end, should touch the 
bottom of the vial with his hand, and the person, 
at the other end of the ring, touch the brass ball of 
the vial, with his hand, all the persons would, in- 
stantly, feel the shock, at the same time. For the 



174 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



electricity would go through them all, from the brass 
ball, as quick as lightning. 

Many such vials are sometimes made, and placed 
near each other, so that they can all be filled with 
electricity. They are all connected with each oth- 
er, so that the electricity can be taken from them 
all, at the same time. There is a way of doing 
this, without having it pass through any body, 
and when it is done, there is a prodigious flash, 
like lightning, and a noise like that of a cannon, 
when it is fired. These vials, thus put together 
are called an electrical battery ; and, when the 
electricity is taken from them all, at once, it is 
called, discharging the battei'y. 

Just, as when a man loads a gun, he is said to 
charge it, and, when he fires it oft', to discharge it 

R. If the electrical battery should be discharged 
through a person, it w T ou!d kill him — would it not, 
mother ? 

M. It might easily be made to do so, my son, if 
there were vials enough, and if they were filled 
with electricity. 

R. I think, I know, mother, why the fish that 
you were going to tell me about, is called, an elec- 
trical eel. 

M. Well, why is it called so, Robert ? 

R. Electricity comes from it, mother, when 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



175 



you touch it, just as it does from the electrical 
batter) 7 . 

M. You are right, my son, it does so. 

Some of these fish have been caught, and kept 
in vessels, and a great many experiments tried with 
them. It has been found, that they can give a 
shock to any person, or animal, that touches, or 
comes near, them ; that they can do this, or not, 
just as they choose ; that they can give a small 
shock, or a hard one ; and that the shock is just 
like that which comes from an electrical vial. 

R. Does any spark come from the eel, mother? 

M. A spark was seen to come from one, when 
it was out of the water, and the electricity was 
discharged from it ; but when the fish is under 
water, no spark can be seen. 

These electrical eels have been examined, to 
see how they are made inside. It is found, that 
more than one third of the whole fish, is a curious, 
electrical battery ; as truly so, as the electrical 
vials are, though it is made very differently from 
them. 

I cannot, now, describe it to you. Jt would take 
too long a time, and I could not do it without a 
drawing for you to look at, to see the different 
parts. 

There are a great many of these parts, much 
more curiously made, and put together, than the 



176 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



parts of an electrical machine are ; and, as I told 
you, one of the largest kind of these electrical eels, 
can charge his battery so full, and discharge it, 
with so much force, as to kill a man, as quickly as 
a powerful stroke of lightning would. 

Nobody knows, how the fish makes the electri- 
city, inside of him, and charges his battery with it ; 
or how he discharges his battery, so as to give a 
shock just when he chooses, and as light, or as 
heavy, a one as he chooses. 

I will take you, soon, to see an electrical ma- 
chine, and some of the wonderful effects of elec- 
tricity. 

R. But I do not wish to take a shock, mother. 

M. A slight one would not hurt you. You 
may do as you choose, however. 

You will see in the electrical machine, and the 
vial, and the battery, and some other things to try 
experiments with, a great deal of design, contri- 
vance, and skill. 

R. I am sure I shall, mother ; and I shall think, 
too, all the while, that the electricity made by the 
machine is the same, as that in the clouds, — and 
that the sparks are like the lightning. I shall be a 
little afraid of it. 

M. It has taken many wise men, a great many 
years, to find out what we know about electricity ; 
and to make electrical machines ; and to know 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY* 



177 



how to charge the vials and batteries, and to use 
them without danger. 

And did chance make the electrical eel ; — with 
its battery inside of it, ready to be used, at all 
times, as it chooses, to defend itself against its 
enemies, or to aid it, in seizing other fish for food ? 

And did the fish find out, by chance, too, that it 
can make electricity, and charge its battery, and 
use it ; and did chance teach it, what to use it for ? 

There are only five different kinds of fishes, that 
are known to have this power of making and using 
electricity. 

It is a wonderful power for them to have. They 
can make and use that something, which is often 
so terrible in the dark storm that passes over our 
heads. How we, sometimes, start at the flash of 
lightning, and shrink back as the thunder roars 
around us. It is then, that God seems to show us 
His great power. 

He bows the heavens, and comes down. 

Darkness is under His feet. 

He flies upon the wings of the xoind. 

Dark waters, and thick clouds, cover Him 
round about, 

God thunders in the heavens. 

The Highest gives His voice. 

At such times, the atheist has been known to 
15 



176 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



shudder, and tremble, at the power of God, and to 
cry, and pray, for deliverance from danger. 

Let us admire the same power of God, which can 
so curiously confine, within the body of a small fish, 
that electricity, which gives the thunder-storm its 
terror. Coming from the clouds, it splits the tallest 
trees, and destroys animals, and men, and houses. 
In the body of the fish, and used for his safety and 
benefit, it can do but little harm. 

But only think, if all fishes, and birds, and beasts, 
and men, had this same power ; or if, even, all an- 
gry men had it ! 

R. I do not think, mother, that any of us would 
live a great while. 

M. You see, then, my son in the fish which I 
have been explaining to you, and in the few others 
of the same kind, one more striking proof of the 
power, the wisdom, and the goodness, of God. 

R. Yes, mother ; and I am sure I shall always 
remember it, it is so w r onderful, and so different 
from any thing that I have ever heard before. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



181 



DIALOGUE XIV. 

Robert. Mother, 1 was stung by a bee, this 
morning ; see how my finger is swelled. 

Mother. Not a great deal, Robert. I am 
glad, it is no worse. 

R. I think, I went rather too near the hive. 
I shall not go so near again. 

M. It is best to be careful, my son ; for, some- 
times, the sting of a bee is very painful, indeed, 
and it takes a good while to heal the wound. 

R. How can such a little insect make so bad a 
wound, mother? 

M. It has a part of its body made for this very 
purpose. 

The sting is inside of a horny sheath, or scabbard. 
This sheath ends in a sharp point, which is slit, so 
as to open and let the sting come out, when the 
wound is made. The sting is double, made of two 
small darts, very sharp, and barbed like a fish-hook. 
Bach dart has many of these little barbs. One 
dart is somewhat longer than the other. 

Here is a drawing of the sting of a bee, v< ry 
greatly magnified. 

When a bee stings any body, it first pushes the 
pointed, horny sheath through the skin, into the 
flesh. Then it thrusts out the longest dart of its 
15* 



182 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



sting, through the sheath, into the flesh, where it 
holds fast with its barbed point. The other dart 
follows, and so the two darts, one after the other, 
keep piercing into the flesh, till the whole sting is 
buried in it. 

R. I do not wonder, mother, that the sting of 
a bee is so painful, and the wound which it makes, 
so bad. 

M. But it would not be so, Robert, if the little 
insect did not do something more than I have told 
you. 

R. What is that, mother ? 

M. While the sting is in the flesh, it pours some 
poison, through the sheath into the wound ; and it 
is this which makes the painful swelling. If this 
was not done, the sting of a bee would be no worse 
than a pretty deep prick of a pin, or when you cut 
yourself, a very little, with the sharp point of a pen- 
knife. 

R. Where does the poison come from, mother? 

M. There is a little bag, at the root of the sting, 
which holds it ; and there are several curious mus- 
cles, with which the bee can move its sting different 
ways, and thrust it into the flesh, and make the 
poison flow from the bag, through the sheath, into 
the wound. 

Look, again, at the drawing of the sting, and I 
will explain to you the different parts. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



183 



(/) is the tube in which the poison is made, and 
which conveys it into the bag (6), from which it is 
carried, through another tube, into the sting's 
sheath (I I). 

(ee) is the outward sheath, which shuts over the 
inward sheath (//). 

{mm mm) are four cartilages, and (oooo) four, 
very small muscles, by the help of which, the bee 
can move the sting, different ways. 

(p p) are two muscles, to draw the sting into the 
sheath. 

(d) is the sting, divided into two parts, and barb- 
ed at the sides. 

See, how this little insect is provided with a 
weapon, sufficient to defend itself against very 
large, and powerful enemies. It knows very well, 
too, how to use it ; and a swarm of bees is as safe 
against the attacks of animals, as they could wish 
to be. 

R. Yes, mother, I remember, how the bear 
that tried to get the honey in a bee-hive, w r as stung 
by them. I read about it in my book of fables. 

M. The instruments, also, with which the bee 
and other insects get their food, are very curious, 
and show us the design, contrivance, and skill of 
that wise and good Being who made the little bees, 
and all the other insects ; and who constantly takes 
care of them, as well as of man, and of the larger 
animals. 



184 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. Do tell me about them, mother. 

M. I will ; but I must first tell you about a few 
other things, so that you may understand me the 
better. 

Some persons have taken great pains to find out 
the different kinds of insects ; and how they are 
made, and how they live, and what they do. They 
have made large collections of them ; and where 
such a collection is made, and the insects are all 
put in order, in glass cases, it is called a cabinet of 
insects. 

In some of these cabinets, there are forty thou- 
sand, different kinds of insects ; but, probably, there 
are a great many more in the world, which have 
not yet been discovered. 

The manner in which their mouths, and their 
instruments for getting food, are made, is more cu- 
rious than that of beasts, birds, or fishes. 

Some insects h r d\ejatvs ; and, usually, two pairs 
of jaws, an upper and a lower pair. They do not 
move against each other, up and down, as ours do, 
but sideways. The upper pair, in most cases, seize 
the food, and chew it. The under pair, which are 
often hooked, hold the food, and tear it, and after- 
wards, the upper pair make it very fine, before it 
is swallowed. 

The jaws of some are sharp, and are set with 
little thorns, for tearing flesh ; others are hooked, 
for seizing worms or insects, and, at the same time. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



185 



hollow, for sucking up their juices ; — some cut 
leaves, like scissors ; — others are strong enough to 
grind the hardest wood between them. 

To a great many insects, jaws would have been 
useless. All the food which they take, is liquid. 
Moths and butterflies are of this kind. They eat 
nothing but honey, which is often quite deep, at the 
bottom of flowers. They need some way, then, 
of being able to reach it ; just as we need some 
way of getting water from the bottom of a well, 
before we can drink it. 

God has furnished them with just what they need. 

They have a slender tongue, hollow inside, like 
a tube, and sometimes three inches long, which, 
when they do not use it, they coil up in a small 
space, that it may not be in the way, or get in- 
jured. 

When they use it, they unrol it instantly, and 
darting it into the bottom of a flower, draw up the 
sweet juice or honey, on which they feed. 

This tongue is a hard kind of flesh, made up of 
a great many little rings, which lie, one above the 
other, and are moved by an equal number of 
muscles. 

Though it looks very simple, and as if it was 
only one tube, it is, in fact, made up of three, 
smaller, distinct tubes ; the two outside ones, to 
draw in the air, and the middle one, to suck up the 



186 



THE YOUTH ? S BOOK 



honey. This middle tube is nearly square, and 
formed by the two outside ones coming close to- 
gether, with a channel, or trough, cut in each. 

These two outside tubes are held fast together 
by a great many, little hooks on each, that hook 
into each other ; somewhat as you can hook the 
fingers of one hand, on to the fingers of the other* 
and hold the hands very tight together. 

The insect can unhook these outside tubes, or 
hook them together again, whenever it pleases. 

When they are hooked together, the inside tube 
is air-tight ; that is, no air can possibly pass 
through its sides. When the insect puts this tube 
down into the honey, and sucks up the air that is* 
inside of the tube, the air at the bottom of the 
flower, presses the honey up into the tube, and up 
into the mouth of the insect. 

R. Oh ! mother, this is like what the boys, 
sometimes, do, when they suck up new cider, out 
of the tub, with a straw. 

M. It is, my son, and a common pump does 
something like it, too. The honey is pressed up, 
by the air, into the tube of the insect, because 
there is no air inside of the tube to press the honey 
down ; — the insect having emptied the inside of 
the tube of all the air. 

For the same reason the cider rises in the straw, 
and the water in the pump. You recollect, I ex~ 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



187 



plained to you tibout this pressure of the air, when 
you told me about the sucker which the boys make, 
and I showed you, that it was like the trunk of the 
elephant, lifting a heavy weight. 

R. I remember it, mother, but I did not think, 
then, that little insects, like a moth, and a butterfly, 
have a trunk, too. 

M. And quite as curious a one, you see, Robert, 
as that of the great elephant. 

It was a long, long while, before men found out? 
how to make a pump ; and I dare say, the man 
who made the first one, was thought to have a great 
deal of design, contrivance, and skill ; and if any 
body had said, that it was not made by the man, 
but came by chance, one day, the people would 
have laughed at him, as a very foolish man. 

Who contrived and made its little pump for the 
butterfly, which is indeed, much more curious than 
our pump in the well is ? Did no one make it ; 
no one design it for any particular use ? Did all 
its parts happen to come together by chance — not 
only in one butterfly, but in the millions and mil- 
lions of butterflies that have lived ; and did they 
happen to come together, just exactly right, and 
always exactly alike, so as to make the same kind 
of pump, for hundreds and hundreds of years ? 

For there was a time, my son, when the first 
butterfly lived, and laid its little eggs. 



188 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. Oh ! yes, mother, just like the first hen, 
about which you told me, and then more butter- 
flies came out of the eggs, and so there have been 
millions, and millions of butterflies in the world. 

M. But there is a great difference, Robert, be- 
tween the eggs of a hen, and those of a butterfly. 

R. I know that, mother ; I never saw the eggs 
of a butterfly, but they must be a great deal smaller 
than those of a hen. 

M. Yes, some of them are not larger than the 
head of a pin, and they are very different, in an- 
other respect. Little chickens come out of the 
eggs which the hen lays ; but little butterflies do 
not come out of the eggs which the butterfly lays- 

The eggs of the butterfly are laid on the leaf of 
some plant, very often on the leaf of a cabbage, 
and stuck fast to it, with something like glue, where 
they remain some weeks, and sometimes months, 
before they are hatched. The butterfly takes no 
care of the eggs ; indeed, she dies very soon after 
laying them. They are hatched by the warmth 
of the air, and heat of the sun, and, at last, out of 
each egg comes — a ivorm-like caterpillar. 

This caterpillar crawls upon sixteen short legs, 
and has two jaw T s, with which it greedily devours 
leaves. It has twelve eyes, so very small that they 
cannot be seen without a microscope. 

It eats the leaves of the plant on which the egg 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



189 



was laid, very voraciously, and grows faster than al- 
most any other animal. It grows so fast, that its 
skin becomes too tight ; and it bursts through it, and 
casts it off, and very soon has a new skin. This it 
does five or six times. 

After some weeks, or, in some kinds of caterpillars, 
some months, this little animal begins to get ready 
for another singular change. 

It may be seen crawling away from the plant on 
which it has fed, and trying to find some place, out 
of sight, where it may be safe from its enemies. For, 
pretty soon, it will stop eating entirely, and not be 
able to move, or help, or defend, itself. 

It often climbs up high walls, and gates, and trees, 
to find such a place as it needs. 

Having found it, the caterpillar spins from its 
mouth a great many, very fine, silken threads, by 
which it hangs from some projection, or from the 
underside of a leaf or branch. Some kinds hang 
with the head downwards ; while others hang side- 
ways, by means of a silken belt, winch they make 
round the middle of their bodies. 

It now begins to try to force itself, once more, out 
of its skin ; which, after a great deal of twisting and 
struggling, it, at last, succeeds in doing. But, some- 
times, this is so difficult, that it takes a day or two, 
to accomplish it. 

Out of the old skin, there conies a little animal. 
16 



190 



THE YOTTTH'S BOOK 



very different from the caterpillar ; and it is called , a 
chrysalis. 

This chrysalis has little hooks on its tail, with 
which it fastens itself to something like a small, silk 
button, which the caterpillar spun, to hang upon. 

It now tries to get the old skin of the caterpillar out 
of the way ; putting itself in all sorts of shapes ; push- 
ing against the old skin ; and spinning itself round, 
with a sudden jerk, fifteen or twenty times. At 
last it succeeds ; the old skin is cast away ; and 
there hangs the chrysalis, waiting for another, and 
still more astonishing change. 

Here is a drawing of a caterpillar (a), and of a 
chrysalis (c?), hanging, as I have just been explain- 
ing to you. 

The shape of the chrysalis, is quite different from 
that of the caterpillar. It is the case which holds 
the insect, that is soon to come out of it ; and inside 
of this case, all the parts of the insect are curiously, 
and carefully folded up. 

The chrysalis seems hardly to be alive. It keeps 
hanging from the silk button, and does not move, 
nor eat. It continues so, sometimes, for weeks ; and, 
sometimes, for months ; and, sometimes, for a year, 
or more ; according to the season when the eggs 
were laid and hatched, and the time that the cater- 
pillar was growing, and the size of the insect that is 
to come out of the chrysalis. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



193 



At length the time comes, for the insect to burst 
its prison-house. It begins to struggle to escape. 
The skin is rent, and. opening wider and wider, out 
comes a beautiful, winged butterfly. 

This gay. happy insect, glitters in the sunbeam, 
and floats on the breeze, and sports from flower to 
flower, and sips the delicious honey, a few summer 
days, or at most, weeks, and then dies. Before it 
dies, however, it lays its eggs, from which, in the 
same way, new caterpillars, and chrysales, and but- 
terflies are again to come : all having their various 
parts formed with perfect exactness, and, in each state, 
perfectly alike ; egg like egg, — caterpillar like cater- 
pillar, — chrysalis like chrysalis. — butterfly like but- 
terfly, — year after year, from the first butterfly down 
to the last one that has lived. 

What design, what contrivance, what skill ! No 
man can imitate it. God alone has wisdom and 
power, sufficient* to do it. And every beautiful but- 
terfly that you see in your walks, in the fields, tells 
you, as if you should hear a voice from heaven ; 
There is a God, who made, and preserves, and 
governs, all being's and things. 

Before we go. I wish to say one thing more to you 
about the butterfly. 

What wonderful changes lake [dace in this little 
animal, from the time that it is in the egg, to the 
day when it bursts its tomb, and cornea forth, no 
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194 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



more to crawl on the ground, or to hang lifeless from 
the branch of a tree, but to fly, freely and joyfully, 
through the air. 

Who could have thought such a change possible, 
if some one had not found it out, by actually seeing it? 

But God made this change, and His wisdom and 
power can make still more wonderful changes. 

He tells us, in the Bible, that these bodies of ours, 
which must be laid in the grave, and there moulder 
away to dust, will again come forth — more surpri- 
singly changed than the brilliant butterfly is, when 
it leaves its confinement. 

If we love and obey God, and trust in that Saviour, 
who Himself, burst the bars of the tomb, and rose 
from the dead, and is gone to Heaven, w T e, too, shall 
rise joyfully from the grave, and our bodies will be- 
come like unto Christ } s glorious body. 

We shall all be changed, in a moment, in the 
twinkling of an eye, at the last timmp ; {for the 
trumpet shall sound ;) and the dead shall be raised 
incorruptible, and we shall be changed. 

For this corruptible must put on incorruption, 
and this mortal must put on immortality. 

It is the Bible, my son, which teaches us these 
wonderful truths. And, while you admire the wis- 
dom and power of God in the curious butterfly which 
He has formed, think of that resurrection from the 
dead) which, if you truly love God, will so change 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



195 



your present feeble and decaying body, that it will 
live in immortal health, and youth, and strength, 
and beauty. 



DIALOGUE XV. 

Robert. You told me, mother, that there is a 
kind of butterfly, which lays its eggs upon the leaf 
of a cabbage, and that the caterpillar, which comes 
from the egg, eats the leaf of the cabbage for its food. 
How did the butterfly know, that the cabbage-leaf 
would be the right kind of food for the caterpillar ? 

Mother. I am glad, Robert, to hear you ask me 
such a question, for it shows, that you have been 
thinking about what I told you. Try, as much as 
you can, to find out the reason of things. Some- 
times, you will be able to do this, yourself, and the 
oftener you can do so, the better ; for every time that 
you succeed, you will be encouraged, and your mind 
will be strengthened, to try again, and, perhaps, to 
succeed again. 

R. I have tried, mother, to find out the reason, 
why the butterfly always lays its eggs on the right 
kind of leaf, but 1 cannot, and so I have asked you to 
tell me. 



196 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. It certainly is strange, my son, that the but- 
terfly should always do so, and never make any 
mistake ; for you know, it lays its eggs but once, and 
dies soon after, so that it could not have learned, by 
doing it several times, where the proper place is, 
for its eggs to be hatched. Besides, the butterfly 
never, itself, eats the cabbage-leaf ; for it lives on 
nothing but the sweet honey, which it pumps up 
from the bottom of the flowers. How, then, should 
it know, that the caterpillar, which is to come from 
its egg, will not be able to eat honey, and that its 
only food must be the cabbage-leaf? 

R. Well, mother, I am sure this is strange 
enough, and I cannot see any reason for it. 

M. I, too, my son, am filled with wonder, when 
I think of it ; and, I know very little more about it, 
than you do. I know, that it is so, but how it is so, 
I shall be able to explain but very little to you. 

Different kinds of insects have very different pla- 
ces in which to lay their eggs, and, also, very differ- 
ent ways of doing it. 

There is a kind of moth, which lays its eggs in the 
autumn, and they are not hatched till the spring. 
If they were placed upon a leaf, the winds in winter 
might blow them a great way off, and the caterpillar 
might starve for want of its proper food. So the 
moth places the eggs round the twigs of the tree, the 
leaves of which the caterpillar is to eat. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



197 



The eggs are in ring*?, and look like little pearls, 
and the French gardeners call them bracelets, 
They are glued together, with a kind of gum, which 
is so hard, that it keeps them from being blown 
away by the wind, or injured by the rain, or de- 
voured by any insects. 

All this the moth contrives to do with its tail, and 
hind feet. 

Does the moth know the reason why it does so ? 

There is a small fly that lays its eggs upon the 
branches of rose trees, and of other plants, on the 
leaves of which the caterpillar is to feed. To do 
this, it makes little cells, or small regular holes, to 
put the eggs in. 

If you had to make these cells, you would have 
to use a gimblet, to bore the holes, and a file, to 
make them regular and smooth. But the little fly 
has no gimblet or file. It has, however, what is 
quite as good, — an instrument like a saw. This 
saw is more curious than ours, for it has teeth on 
each side ; so that it is like two saws put together, 
and can cut both ways, and answer the purpose, 
both of a gimblet and a file. Does this fly know, 
that the caterpillar, that is to come out of the egg, 
will eat only certain kinds of leaves ? 

A small gad-fly ; lays its eggsT to be hatched, in 
the hides, or skins, of oxen and cows. I dare say, 
you have seen these insects flying about the oxen, 



198 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and troubling them very much ; for the gad-flies 
hurt them a good deal, when they pierce the skin of 
any of the tender parts of their bodies. Does the 
gad-fly know, that it would not do to lay its eggs on 
the leaves of plants ? 

Did you ever see a spy-glass, Robert ? 

R. Yes, mother ; do you not remember the one 
that uncle John has, which pulls out so many times ? 

M. Well, the gad-fly has, in its tail, an instru- 
ment, hard and tough, like horn, made of four pieces, 
which draw out, just like the pieces of a spy-glass. 
At the end of it, there are five pointed hooks, three 
of which are longer than the rest. These form an 
instrument very much like a gimblet, with which, in 
a few seconds, the wound is made, and the eggs 
laid. 

The little ants which, you know, live together, in 
great numbers, in their small houses, are very atten- 
tive, indeed, in taking care of their eggs. All the 
eggs are laid by one of the ants, which is called, the 
queen-ant. She does not lay them in any particu- 
lar place, but any where about the ant-nest. And 
she does not take the least care of them herself. 

As soon as the eggs are laid, there are other ants, 
called ivorkers, which immediately take them up 
in their mouths, and keep turning them backward 
and forward with their tongue, to moisten them. 

They lay the eggs in heaps, placing them in dif- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



199 



ferent rooms, and constantly take care of them till 
they are hatched. Frequently, in the course of the 
day, they remove them from one part of the nest to 
another, as they may need more or less heat, or more 
or less moisture. 

After the eggs are hatched, which happens in a 
few days, the workers are very careful of the little 
worms, or grubs, as they are called. They get them 
food constantly ; and, every day, an hour before sun- 
set, they regularly remove them to little cells, lower 
down in the earth, where they will be safe from the 
cold, and in the morning carry them back again. 
If it is going to be cold or wet, however, they let 
them remain in the lower cells. 

What is very remarkable, the workers do all this, 
earlier or later, in the morning and evening, accord- 
ing as the sun rises and sets, earlier or later. For, 
as soon as the sun shines on the outside of their nest, 
the ants that are at the top, go below, in great haste, 
to rouse their companions, and these quickly carry 
the grubs to the upper part of the nest, where they 
leave them a quarter of an hour, and then carry 
them into rooms, where the sun cannot shine directly 
upon them. 

Sometimes the older grubs, in one nest, amount to 
seven or eight thousand, and the younger ones to as 
many. 

The older ones eat the most, and the workers 



200 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



have to work very hard to supply them with food, 
which they do, several times a day. 

They take great pains, too, to keep the grubs 
clean, and for this purpose, the workers are continu- 
ally passing their tongues over them. 

After the young grubs have fully grown, they 
wrap themselves up in a silken case, which they 
spin out of their own bodies, and now they begin to 
change their appearance and shape, and each one is 
called a pupa. 

These pupae, inside of the silken cases, which are 
called, cocoons, although they do not eat, require as 
much care as the grubs did. 

Every morning and evening, they are carried 
up and down, in the nest, as the eggs were ; and if, 
at any time, the nest is crushed by the foot of some 
animal which is passing over it, the ants are all 
busy in picking out the cocoons from the earth, and 
in putting the nest in order again. 

Do the workers know when the pupae are fully 
grown, and that it is time for them to come out of 
the cocoons ? Do they know, too, that the pupae 
are too^ weak to do this alone ? For, just at the right 
time, three or four begin to pull off some of the silken 
threads from one end of the cocoon, to make it thin- 
ner. They make several, small openings^ and cut 
the threads, one by one, which separate these open- 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



201 



ings, till a hole is made, large enough to let the pris 
oners out. 

They do all this, very gently ; and then, with 
equal care, pull off the old skin which is on the pu- 
pae, and watch them for several days, and teach them 
how to find their way through all the rooms, and 
windings of the nest. 

If I had time, I would tell you a great deal more 
about these curious and industrious, little insects, and, 
also, about the great variety of ways in which differ- 
ent insects lay their eggs, and provide for their being 
hatched, and for the caterpillars, and grubs, which 
come out of the eggs, finding their food. 

It is very difficult to find out, how it is : that insects 
seem to know so well what to do, to take care of 
themselves, and of their eggs, and of their young. 

They do some things, which, it would seem, they 
must think beforehand, how to do. And so do 
beasts, and birds, and fishes. But, then, all of them 
do a great many things, very curiously, and exactly, 
and regularly, without seeming to have the least 
contrivance, or thought, about it. 

Birds of the same kind, build their nests in the 
same way, year after year. So do bees, their hives ; 
and all the little cells are made as exactly of the 
right size and shape, as if the bees were able to draw 
lines and figures on paper, and calculate how k 
17 



202 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



ought to be done, just as a man does, how a house 
should be built. 

Do birds contrive, beforehand, how to build their 
nests ; and bees, how to make their hives ? Do 
the old ones teach the young ones, how to do this ? 
If so, it is strange, that they should do so, exactly 
alike, year after year, and not make some alterations 
or improvement. It would take a man a good while, 
to learn how to make a bee-hive. He would make 
a great many mistakes, probably, at first, and have 
to try a great many times, before he got it exactly 
right. 

R. Yes, mother, and after he had skill enough 
to do it, it would take him a long time, to teach an- 
other man how to do it. 

M. That is true, Robert ; and if he should teach 
a hundred men, how to do it, and they should teach 
a hundred others ; and so on, till a million of men 
were taught, do you suppose, they would all make 
their bee-hives exactly alike, as the bees do ? 

R. I think not, mother. 

M. Besides, my son, it takes a great many bees 
to make one hive, and yet they all go to work on the 
same plan. They all work together, without confu- 
sion, or mistake. Some do one thing, and some, an- 
other ; and yet they all do just what ought to be done ? 
at the right time, and in the right place, till the hive 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY'. 



203 



is finished. This they do. too. in different countries, 
and in different years, summer after summer. 

If the bees are obliged to learn how to do all this ; 
if they really think, and reason, and talk about it ; 
if they truly make their hives with the design of 
living in them, and of storing away their honey, and 
of taking care of themselves, and of their eggs and 
their young ; and if they contrive beforehand, how 
to build their hives, and carry on all their business ; 
— then, in these respects, they have more design, 
contrivance, and skill than men have. 

R. And if so, mother, I do not see, why they do 
not learn to do other things for their comfort ; just as 
when a man has contrived how to make one curious 
thing, he can easily contrive how to make other cu- 
rious things. 

M. I think so, too, Robert ; and as men keep 
finding out, how to make new and useful things, 
year after year ; and people in some countries grow 
wiser and more skilful, than they do in some other 
countries ; it would seem as if it would be so among 
the bees. But it is not ; they are just as wise and 
skilful in one country, as in another ; and they are 
no more so now, than they were thousands of years 
ago. 

And this is true of all the different kinds of insects, 
of fishes, of birds, and of beasts. 

Man alone has the power of making new disco- 



204 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



veries, and of designing new things ; and of impro- 
ving, year after year, in wisdom and skill. Men, 
now, have a great many conveniences, and comforts, 
and advantages, which they did not have, hundreds 
of years ago. 

What a difference there is between the house in 
which we live, and the wigwam of an Indian ; be- 
tween the clothes which we wear, and the skin of a 
wild beast, which he throws around him. But there 
is no such difference between the hives of bees, or 
between the different things which they get for their 
comfort. They all live, and fare, alike. 

Sometimes, people have put some of the eggs of a 
duck into a hen's nest, to be hatched with her own 
eggs. After the eggs are hatched, the hen will take 
as good care of the little ducks, as of her own chick- 
ens. As soon as the ducks can get to any water, 
deep enough to swim in, away they go, and plunge 
into it, and swim about, with as little fear, and with 
as much ease, as the old ducks do. This troubles 
the hen a great deal. She makes a great noise about 
it, and does not seem to understand, at all, that the 
little ducks are made very differently from the chick- 
ens, with feet on purpose to swim in the water ; and 
that they will have to get their food in a different 
way from what the chickens will. 

R. And the hen does not seem to understand, 
mother, that the bill of the ducks is very different 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



205 



from that of the chickens. You recollect, you ex- 
plained it to me. 

M. Yes. my son. and I am glad, you have not 
forgotten it. 

You see. the hen does not seem to know any thing 
about the reason, why the ducks go into the water, 
and the chickens do not. She tries to keep the ducks 
from going into it, and, in every way, takes the 
same care of them and of the chickens, and treats 
them exactly alike. 

Why is she so stupid about this, when she seems 
to know so much about other things ? 

And why, too, did the little ducks go so soon into 
the water? No duck taught them to do so. The 
hen tried all she could, to prevent them from doing 
it. How did they know, that the water would be a 
good place for them, and that they could swim in it ? 

R. The more you tell me about these things 
that animals do, mother, the more strange it seems 
to me. 

M. It is, indeed, strange, my son ; and there is 
no other way of explaining it, but to consider it, as 
made to be so, by God Himself. 

R. Do you mean, mother, that God makes the 
butterfly lay its eggs in the right place ; and the 
ants take care of their eggs, and grubs, and pupae, as 
they do ; and birds build their nests, and bees, their 
hives : and little ducks go into the water ? 

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206 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. I do, my son, though not in the same way, 
in which He makes the wind blow, or the lightning 
come from the clouds, and strike a tree. 

But we have talked a good while, and must stop 
now. I will talk with you again, about the way in 
which God makes animals do a great many things, 
to-morrow morning. 



DIALOGUE XVI. 

Mother. Well, Robert, have you had a pleasant 
walk? 

Robert. A very pleasant one, mother, and I 
stopped to see a caterpillar hanging from a silk but- 
ton, on the under side of a leaf. 

M. I cannot think, Robert, that the caterpillar 
does this because it knows, that it is about to be 
turned into a chrysalis, and that, afterwards, the 
chrysalis will be turned into a butterfly. 

R. What, then, makes it do so, mother ? 

M. I was beginning to explain to you, yesterday, 
about the way in which God makes the caterpillar 
do this ; and makes other insects, and the fishes, and 
birds, and beasts, do a great many curious things, 
for doing which, they do not seem to understand 
the reason at all. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



207 



God gives them different instincts, which direct 
them to do certain things, without their being obliged 
to learn hoio to do them, and without their knowing 
why they do them. 

Even plants seem to have something like in- 
stincts. 

When a kernel of corn is put into the ground, (or, 
indeed, the seed of any plant,) after some time, a 
green sprout comes out from one end of the kernel, 
and a good many, little, white threads, from the other 
end. The sprout finds its way, upward, through 
the earth, and grows, and becomes a stalk of corn, 
and bears ears. 

The little threads run downward, and become 
roots, and help to fix the stalk strongly in the earth, 
and to draw nourishment for it, from the earth. 

Now, what is very curious, is, that you may put 
the kernel into the ground, either end up, or either 
side up, any way that you choose, and the sprout 
will, always, take the right direction, upward, — 
and the little threads, their right direction, down- 
ward. 

R. Mother, did you never see how the bean- 
vines always go towards the poles, and climb round 
them? 

M. I have, my son, and this, as well as what I 
have told you — the kernel of corn does — , may be 
considered as an instinct. It is done, without the 



208 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



kernel, or the vine, thinking, or knowing, any thing 
about it. 

R. Are there any other, curious instincts in plants, 
mother ? 

M. Many, my son. If a vessel of water is pla- 
ced within six inches of a cucumber vine that is 
growing, in twenty-four hours, the vine will change 
its direction, and not stop till it touches the water. 

There is a curious plant, called a fly-trap, the 
leaves of which are jointed, and have two rows of 
strong prickles on them. 

If a fly, or any other insect, alights on these leaves, 
instantly they rise up ; the rows of prickles lock 
themselves fast together, and the little animal is 
caught, and soon dies. It is thought, that, in some 
way, the plant is nourished by the dead insect. 

Here is a drawing of a part of this curious plant 
You see, a little insect has just got caught in its 
leaves. 

Here, again, is what may be called, instinct. 
When the leaves spring together, and catch the 
insect, and do not open till it dies, the plant feels 
nothing, and knows nothing, of all this, or of the 
reason why it is done, 

R. Mother, has a clock instinct ; it strikes, to tell 
us what o'clock it is ? 

M. No, my son, we know how the clock strikes. 
The weight makes the wheels go round, and the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY". 



211 



wheels raise the hammer, and it strikes the bell. 
We call this mechanism. Machines have not 
instinct. 

It is only those things that have vegetable and 
animal life, which have instinct. 

What the cause of instinct is, we do not know, 
nor in what w T ay God gives it to the plants and 
animals, and makes it always act as it does, regu- 
larly, and without any mistake. 

If I move my hand suddenly towards your eyes, 
as if I was going to strike them, you wink them, in- 
stantly. 

R. Yes, mother, and I cannot help doing it. 

M. A little infant does the same. The reason 
of doing it, is to protect the eye from injury. But 
neither you, nor the little infant, think of this rea- 
son, when you wink your eyes, nor think, at all, 
about doing it. 

It is instinct, that leads you to do so. 

It is instinct, that directs different animals to 
do what they do, to preserve their lives, to defend 
themselves against danger, to provide for their 
wants, to build their nests, and other habitations 
to live in, and to take care of their young. 

They do all this, in a very different way from 
that in which a clock strikes, or a steamboat moves 
through the water. For animals are not ma- 
chines. 



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THE YOUTH S BOOK 



They do it, too, in a very different way, from 
that, in which men learn how to take care of them- 
selves, and of each other, and to invent and make 
things, for their comfort and improvement. 

We cannot suppose, that the birds in building 
their nests, or the bees, in making their hives, learn, 
first how to do it, and then plan and calculate, and 
reason about it, as men do, when they build a house, 
a church, a ship, or a bridge. 

We cannot believe, that they have such wonder- 
ful wisdom, design, contrivance, and skill. It is 
instinct which directs them ; and, in this ivay, God 
shows us His great wisdom, and power, and good- 
ness. For He made the first butterfly with an 
instinct, to lay its eggs on the proper leaf ; and the 
caterpillar, to eat this leaf, and to hang, just at 
the right time from the silk button ; and the chry- 
salis to come out from the skin of the caterpillar, 
and hang, also, from the silk button, and, at last, 
the butterfly to come out from its case, which it 
has to strive very hard to do, and stretch its wings, 
and seek its food, and lay its eggs, before it dies. 

How wonderful, that these instincts, thus go 
from the old butterfly to the young ones, and so on, 
for hundreds and thousands of years. 

Think of all the beasts, and birds, and fishes, and 
insects, that are now living, and that have ever 
lived ; — how many millions, and millions, and mil- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



213 



Hons of them there have been. They have all had 
their peculiar instincts, directing them, in different 
ways, to do the different things that were neces- 
sary for their safety and comfort, and for that of 
their young. 

How these instincts are given to animals, and 
made to act with so much certainty and accuracy ; 
how they are made to go from the old to their 
young, and from these to their young again, and so 
on, we cannot understand, or explain. 

God alone, knows, hew it is done : for Fie does 
it. And it is, my son, even a more striking proof 
of His design, contrivance, and skill, than the won- 
derful way in which He has made the different parts 
of the bodies of animals, and put them together. 

You told me, some time ago, that you should 
think it would be very wonderful, indeed, if a man 
could make a watch, so that the wheels should 
move and move, in such a way, as to have another 
watch come out from it, as a chicken does from an 
egg, and another watch from this, and so on, and 
so on. 

But suppose, a man, besides this, could make the 
first watch, so that it could keep going of itself, for 
one year, and then tumble all to pieces ; but, just 
before it tumbled to pieces, it should move its 
wheels, as if by instinct, and make another watch 
like itself, to go as it had done ; and, at the end of 
13 



214 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



a year, make another watch, and, then, tumble to 
pieces ; and so on, and so on. What would you 
think of this ? 

R. I should think, mother, that the design, 
contrivance, and skill, of the man was so great, that, 
if 1 did not see the watches, 1 could hardly believe 
any thing about it. 

M. How much greater design, contrivance, and 
skill, are seen in the instincts of butterflies, and 
of other animals ; so that here is another kind of 
proof, different from any that we have had before, 
of the existence, wisdom, power, and goodness of 
God. 

R. I shall think of it, mother, when I see a bird 
building its nest, or the caterpillar spinning its 
threads. 

M. I hope you will, my son, and thus, as you 
look around you, see God in all things ; in the 
little ant beneath your feet, as well as in the larger 
animals ; in their ivonderful instincts, as well as 
in their curious bodies, and motions ; in the flowers, 
and plants, and trees ; in the gentle breeze, and in 
the roaring storm ; in the glorious sun, by day, and 
in the beautiful moon and stars, by night. 

R. Before we stop talking, mother, I wish to 
ask you one question. 

M. Do, my son, you know, I am always ready 
to answer your inquiries. 



OK NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



215 



R. Do not animals sometimes think, before- 
hand, how they will do certain things, and why 
they will do them ? 

M. Yes, Robert, I cannot but think so. They 
often do things which cannot be explained by mere 
instinct. 

A friend of mine told me this story about a 
horse, which belonged to a gentleman who was a 
physician. 

One night, the physician was absent. His wife 
was awaked by a very great noise in the entry, near 
the door of her room, which was on the lower 
floor. She rose quickly, and dressed herself. It 
seemed, as if a number of men were walking back 
and forth, and stamping, with great violence. She 
was greatly alarmed, and cried out for help. A 
gentleman, who slept in the room directly over 
hers, heard her, and immediately dressed himself, 
and ran down stairs into her room. He did not 
see who was in the entry, as it was very dark. At 
first, he was afraid, that several robbers had broken 
into the house ; and there appeared to be so many 
of them, that he did not dare to open the door. 
The noise continued, but no voices were heard. 
At length, he opened the door, having first pro- 
cured a light ; and there stood, — the physician's 
horse, appearing to be in very great distress. He 



216 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



was led back to the stable, arid died, the next 
morning. 

There seems to be hardly a doubt, that the horse, 
being in great pain, thought that his master could 
relieve him, and went to the door of his chamber, 
for that purpose. 

What makes the conduct of the horse the more 
surprising, is, that he was able to find his way into 
the house, and to his master's room, where he had 
never been before. To do this, he was obliged 
to unlatch the door of his stable, and to cross a 
garden, in which there were two flights of Steps 
that he descended, and, then, to open the outside, 
back-door of the house. Mere instinct could not 
have led him to do all this. 

R. Mother, are you really sure, that all this 
story is true ? 

M. 1 am, my son. I have been at the house 
of the physician, and seen the stable and garden, 
and the gentleman who told me the story, was the 
person that found the horse in the entry ; so that I 
have not the least doubt, it all happened just as I 
have told you. 

If I had time, I could tell you many other stories, 
to show you that some animals think, and feel, and 
reason, and design to do certain things, for certain 
purposes. 

R. Then they are like us, mother. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



M. Yes, my son, in some few things ; but, after 
all, what a vast difference there is between them 
and us. In one thing, you know, we are entirely 
different from them. They do not know, neither can 
they be taught, the least possible thing about God, 
and the soul, and a future world after death. They 
have no ideas, or feelings, with regard to what is 
right and wrong ; and when they reason at all, 
which but very few of them do, in but very few 
instances, they reason only about some little things, 
and there stop. Their reason does not seem to 
improve, and the wisest of them, knows but very 
little, indeed, except what it knows and does, by 
instinct. 

R. Mother. I do not understand exactly, what 
reason is. Will you please to explain it to me. 

M. It would take me a long while. Robert, to 
tell you all about it. but I will tell you enough, to 
show you, how very different reason is from in- 
stinct. 

If something is coming very suddenly towards 
your eyes, you shut them ; but you do not think 
that you will do this, or why you will do it. You 
do it from instinct, or, as we say, instinctively. 

I have read a story of a lady who was one day 
walking alone, in a country where tigers live. One 
of these terrible animals suddenly appeared, and 
began to approach her. What could she do, to 
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218 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



defend herself 1 In an instant, she thought of one 
thing, that might possibly drive the tiger away. 
She had a parasol in her hand. She opened it 
suddenly towards the tiger, and he was so fright- 
ened by it, that he immediately turned about, and 
ran off into the woods. 

The lady perceived the great danger she was in; 
she thought, how she might prevent the tiger from 
attacking her ; she thought opening the parasol 
suddenly towards him, might do this ; and she 
opened the parasol/or this very purpose. 

In doing this, she reasoned. She had seen little 
children, perhaps, or some kinds of animals, startled, 
by having something come very suddenly towards 
them. She might have been alarmed herself, some 
time or other, in this way. She recollected it, and 
thought, that, in the same way, the tiger might be 
alarmed, by the opening of her parasol. 

It was reason^ and not instinct, that led her to 
act so wisely. 

The caterpillar throws off its old skin, exactly 
at the right time ; not because it thinks, that it will 
have a new, and better one, or that it must do this 
several times, that, at last, it may be prepared to 
hang from the silk button, and become a chrysalis, 
and, afterwards, a beautiful butterfly. It knows 
nothing about these wonderful changes. How can 
it ? It never passed through them before, or saw 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



219 



any other caterpillar pass through them ; nor has 
it ever been taught about them by any other insect. 
What the caterpillar does, it does, without thinking 
of the different ways in which it must act, or of 
the purpose for which it must act. It acts entirely 
from instinct. 

When your uncle John takes off his thick wool- 
len coat, in the spring, (as the weather begins to be 
quite warm,) and lays it away in his trunk, and 
puts on a thinner one, — he does this, not from in- 
stinct, but from reason. 

He has learned, from having done so before, 
that it is best for his comfort and health ; he thinks, 
that the cold weather is passed, and that the sum- 
mer is coming on, and that he shall not need his 
thick, warm coat again till the autumn, unless it 
may be, now and then, on a cool day. What he 
I does, he does on purpose, and can tell you, why he 
does it. He does it from reason. 

Instinct is that something which God gives to 
animals, so that it is as much a part of them as 
their life is, which directs them to do certain things 
to preserve their lives, and to take care of them- 
selves, and of their young, and to continue their 
different kinds, year after year ; — and to do all this 
certainly and regularly, without having been taught 
it, — and with as much skill, the first time, as the 



220 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



second, third, fourth, or any time, afterward — and 
without thinking, why it is done. 

Reason is, also, the gift of God. It is His pe- 
culiar gift to man. It is that which makes man 
so very different from beasts, birds, fishes, and 
insects. 

You see reason beginning to show itself in a very 
young child. How soon the child seems to learn 
both how, and why, to do certain things. It soon 
understands, also, how, and why other persons do 
certain things. It early shows design in what it 
does, and sometimes, considerable contrivance and 
skill. 

When it learns to talk, how soon it begins to 
inquire hoto things are made, and why things are 
made ; how things are done, and why they are 
done. 

The child very early understands why it ought 
to do what is right, and not to do what is wrong ; 
and how it ought to conduct towards its parents ; 
and do to others, as it would have others do to it. 
It continues to improve, and understands how and 
why, it must believe that there is a God, who made 
all beings and things, and how, and why, it must 
love, obey, and serve Him, that its soul may be 
prepared, after its body is dead, to go to Heaven, 
and be holy and happy, there for ever. It is rea- 
son that enables the child to do all this. 



OK .NATURAL THEOLOGY . 



221 



But if I should go on to tell you all the things 
which reason enables children and men to do, I 
might spend years in telling you. 

Whenever we think ; how any thing was made, 
or why it was made, we reason. Whenever we 
think, how a thing might be done, and why it 
would be well to have it done, we reason. When- 
ever we think, why we ought to conduct in a cer- 
tain way, so as to do right, — or not to conduct in 
a certain w r ay, so as not to do wrong, w T e reason. 
Whenever we think, how, or why, any thing will 
make us and others, more wise, or good, or happy, 
— or less so, — we reason. 

And, because our minds, or souls, are able to 
do all this, we say they have reason, and that rea- 
son enables them to do it. 

R. Mother, how glad I am. that I have reason. 

M. That you may well be, my son. When 
you see the little birds, and insects, doing many 
curious things, the iconderful instincts which di- 
rect them to do these things, show you that there 
is a God. But how much more striking is the 
proof, that there is a God, when you see children, 
and grown people, doing those things which are 
so far, fur above instinct, and which reason alone 
enables them to do. 

How did man get this wonderful power of his 



222 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



soul ? Whence came his soul itself? How came 
it to be united to his body ? 

You have seen, how our bodies alone, from the 
design, contrivance, and skill, with which they are 
made, and their different parts put together, and 
kept in order, prove that there is a God. How 
much more, then, do our souls prove this ; with 
powers so superior to those of the body ; with 
reason so superior to the instincts of brutes ; with 
reason, the peculiar gift of God to man, and 
which makes man somewhat like God. 

How thankful, my son, should you be to God, 
for giving you reason. And how careful should 
you be so to use your reason, that you may con- 
tinue to improve in knowledge, and goodness, — 
that you may make others and yourself, wiser, 
better, and happier, — that you may become more 
and more like God, and thus be prepared to know 
more of Him, in heaven, and to be happy, in lov- 
ing and serving Him, forever. 



OH NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



223 



DIALOGUE XVII. 

Robert. Mother, uncle John has made me a 
new bat to play ball with, out of a hard piece of 
wood, and it is the best bat that I ever had. 

Mother. Suppose he had made it a foot lon- 
ger, how would you like it then ? 

R. It would not do for me, mother. I should 
think, then, that uncle John had made it for him- 
self. 

M. Yes, your uncle John needs a longer bat to 
play ball with, than you do ; and a little boy would 
need a shorter bat, — so that the bat must be suited 
to the height of the person. This we call propor- 
tion. And if your bat just suits your height, we 
say that the proportion between the length of the 
bat, and the height of your body, is right. Do you 
I not think, your uncle John thought of this propor- 
tion, when he made your bat ? 

R. I am sure he did, mother ; for before he cut 
it off, he asked me, several times, to take hold of 
it at the right place, and see how long it ought to 
be. 

M. He had a design^ then, in making it of just 
the length that he did. Do you suppose, that the 
man who made the chairs in this room, had a design 
in making them just as high as they are y 



224 



THE YOUTHS BOOK 



R. Certainly he had, mother. He made them 
for men and women to sit on, and that small, low 
chair, he made for a little boy or girl to sit on. 

Did you ever think, my son, how our houses, and 
furniture, and all the different kinds of things 
which we use to work with, are proportioned to 
the size of men and women, and to the use ivhich 
we make of them ? 

R. I never did before, mother, but now that 
you have told me, I see that it is so. 

M. If you should see a house with doors only 
half as high and wide as the doors of our house ; 
and windows half as large ; and go inside, and find 
every thing in the same proportion, — all the tables, 
and chairs, and beds, and things to be used, just 
half the size of ours, what would you think ? 

R. I should think, the house, and all the things 
in it, were made for people, only half as large, and 
tall, as you and uncle John are. 

M. Yes ; and that would certainly appear to 
be the design of the person who contrived the 
house, and had it built, and the things made, and 
put into it. 

Proportion, then, between the different parts of 
a thing, or between one thing and others, is one 
way in which we see proofs of design, contrivance, 
and skill. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



225 



R. Mother, I have just thought, if my arms 
were as long as uncle John's, or his arms as short 
as mine, how inconvenient it would be. 

M. True, my son, and only think how all the 
parts of your body, are not only suited, but exactly 
proportioned, to each other. 

How clumsy a head would be, two or three 
times larger than the one you now have. It would 
require stronger muscles to move it about, and a 
stronger neck to support it. And if your legs 
were twice as long as they are, how awkward 
many of your motions would be, and how hard it 
would be for you to bend down, and stoop, and 
pick up things. Your arms, then, would have to 
be longer, to have the right proportion ; and, in- 
deed, all the parts of your body would have to be 
larger, so as to have one suited to the other. 

Think, too of the proportion between our bodies, 
and the tilings and beings around us. 

R. 1 do not exactly understand you, mother. 

M. I will explain to you what I mean. — Sup- 
pose our cows were two or three times taller than 
they are, would it not be very inconvenient ? 

R. It would be, indeed. I do not see, how they 
could be milked. 

M. Well, Robert, there is a suitable propor- 
tion between them, and the size of men and wo- 
men. 

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228 



THE YOUTH J S BOOK 



And so it is with the horse, that animal which is 
of the greatest use to man. If horses were two or 
three times taller than they are, it would be almost 
impossible to ride on horseback ; and if we used 
them in carts, and wagons, and chaises, and stages, 
these would have to be made larger, and higher, 
and very differently from what they are now. 
What would the farmer do, w T hen he ploughed his 
field ? It would give him a great deal of trouble. 

R. And so it would, the hostler, mother, to take 
care of them. 

M. And if our dogs and cats were as big as 
horses and cows, we could not let them come into 
our houses. 

R. And, besides, mother, how could the cats 
catch rats and mice. 

M. You see, my son, there is a proportion be- 
tween the size of man, and that of the animals which 
are intended for his use. And you will see a simi- 
lar proportion, too, between the different kinds of 
animals, of beasts, of birds, of fishes, of insects, and 
of plants. 

A great many animals live on grass and plants 
of different kinds ; and their shape and size and 
height are such, and their head, and body, and 
limbs, so proportioned, that they can get their food 
without difficulty. 

Other animals prey upon different kinds of ani- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



227 



mals, for food ; and their size, and their strength, 
and their means of securing their prey, are propor- 
tioned to this object. If mice were obliged to 
catch cats for food ; or the deer to catch the lion ; 
or flies, to catch spiders : or insects, to catch the 
birds ; — they would soon starve. 

How easily, too, all our food is obtained. We 
eat the flesh of animals ; and we have the know- 
ledge and the skill necessary, to provide this kind 
of food, although we are not so strong as many of 
the animals which we use for food. The propor- 
tion, here, is not between our size and theirs, or 
between our strength and theirs, but between our 
knowledge and contrivance, and skill, and theirs. 
In these respects, we are greatly their superiors, 
and if it were not so, there are many of them 
which we could not procure for food. 

We eat fruit, too, and vegetables, and our great 
article of food, bread, is procured from grain. How 
well adapted the size of the vegetables is to our 
size. If they were much smaller, or if they were 
a great deal larger, it would be difficult to culti- 
vate them, and to gather them in, at the proper 
season, and take care of them. 

If potatoes were no larger than peas, and had 
to be planted, and hoed, as they now are, it would 
be very fatiguing, indeed, to do it, and they would 
hardly be worth raising. And if wheat, and rye, 



228 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and oats, grew five or six feet high, and with a 
larger stalk, men would not be tall enough to reap 
them, or, at any rate, it would be a very difficult, 
and troublesome, task. Most of the pleasantest, 
and most common fruits, can be gathered with the 
hand, and held in it, while we are eating them. 
Titer e is a proportion between them and our 
hands. 

R. Yes, mother, and I was thinking how awk- 
ward, and inconvenient it would be, if apples and 
pears were as large as pumpkins. 

M. There is a proper proportion, also, between 
the size of animals, and that of their young. If the 
little birds that come out of the eggs, were as large 
as the old ones, or if they grew much faster than 
they do, the nest w r ould not be large enough for 
them, and they would require so much food, that 
it would be very difficult for the old ones to take 
care of them. 

R. Mother, I have just thought about another 
instinct that birds must have. 

M. What is that, my son ? 

R. That which directs them to make their 
nests, of the right proportion for the size of their 
eggs, and of the little birds which are to come 
out of them. 

M. Yes, Robert, that is a striking instance of 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



229 



right proportion, and of a curious instinct, at the 
same time. 

You see a similar instance of proportion, and of 
instinct, in the sizes and accommodations of all the 
nests, and hives, and places, which animals prepare 
for their own comfort, and that of their young. 

Who gave them this nice instinct of proportion? 
How happens it to be so certain, so regular, and so 
universal ? Does chance produce exact and suita- 
ble proportions ? Suppose your uncle John should 
write a letter to a tailor, who never saw him, to 
have a suit of clothes made, and should not send 
any measure ; and the tailor should not know, 
whether he was a tall, or a short man, a large, or 
a small one. The clothes might possibly chance 
to fit, and be proportioned to your uncle John's 
size and shape. But it would be a mere chance. 
The tailor might try a thousand times, before he 
would make the suit of clothes to fit exactly. 

But suppose, he had to make suits, in the same 
way, without any measures, for a thousand men. 
How many, then, would their clothes exactly fit ? 
It would be a wonder, if the proportion was right, 
even in one instance. 

But millions of birds and insects have made their 
nests, and hives, of the right proportion, for their 
own comfort, and that of their eggs and young, 
without taking any measure beforehand, or making 

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230 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



any calculation, or, indeed, thinking at all about 
this proportion. 

How could they do this, unless God had given 
them the instinct of proportion ? 

This instinct proves, that there is a God ; and 
this, and all the other instances of proportion, 
which you see in your own body, and in that of 
animals, and of plants, and in the size, and height, 
and shape of men, and animals, and plants, with 
regard to each other, all show the great wisdom, 
power, and goodness of God. 

When you make a kite, or a bat, or any thing 
else ; you know how much you have to think, and 
how careful you have to be, to get all the propor- 
tions exactly right. 

And if you could see a person cutting out a sta- 
tue from a large block of marble, and giving it 
size and shape, and all the nice proportions, so as 
to make it look just like a human body, you would 
greatly admire the design, contrivance, and skill 
of the statuary. 

And if you could see the great church of St. 
Peter's at Rome, more than 700 feet in length, and 
500 in breadth, with its immense dome, rising to 
the height of 400 feet ; and all its beautiful and 
grand parts, both without and within ; and the 
exact proportions between these parts, and the 
whole building ; what would you think of the de~ 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



231 



sign and contrivance of the architect who planned 
this vast temple, and of the skill of those who 
built it ? 

But look at what God has wrought. What 
beautiful proportions in the stem, the branches, 
the leaves, the buds, the flowers, of the rose-bush ; 
in the head, the body, the wings, the feathers, the 
feet of birds ; in the head, the horns, the neck, 
the body, and the limbs, of the deer ; and, above 
all, in the size, and shape, and parts, of the human 
frame ! What useful proportions, too, in our- 
selves, and in all the beings and things, with which 
we are acquainted ! What beautif ul and grand 
proportions, in the hills, and valleys, and plains, 
and rivers, and trees, and plants, that fill the land- 
scapes which are spread around us ! And astron- 
omy would show you still more magnificent and 
sublime proportions between this earth, on which 
we live, and that sun round which it revolves, and 
the moon and planets, and the hosts of stars ; — 
proportions of shape, and size, and weight, and dis- 
tance, and attraction, — which would fill you with 
admiration and awe ! 

God is the great statuary, who has moulded and 
formed all the things and beings which you see. 

God is the great architect, who has built this 
world, and all worlds. 

God has made all those useful, and beautiful, 



232 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and grand proportions, of which this world, and all 
worlds, are full. 

Whenever you admire, or wonder at, these pro- 
portions, think of the Author of them. Think of 
His wisdom, and power, which could design and 
make them. This wisdom and power are infinite. 
Think of His goodness, which has thus furnished 
you with a constant source of the purest enjoyment, 
in looking at the thousand beautiful, and grand, ob- 
jects which surround you. 

In this w r ay, every thing that is lovely, will have 
a new loveliness ; and every thing that is grand, a 
new grandeur ; because you will feel, that they 
were thus made, to promote our happiness, by our 
Father who is in Heaven, 



DIALOGUE XVIII. 

Mother. I told you, yesterday, Robert, some- 
thing about the proportions between ourselves, and 
the different beings and things which surround us. 
There is another subject, something like this, which, 
also, shows us the great wisdom, power, and good- 
ness of God. 

Robert. Will you be so good, mother, as to 
explain it to me. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



233 



M. 1 will endeavour to do it. 

You know, all animals breathe, and if they did 
not, they could not live. The air which they draw 
in, goes to the lungs ; (that part of the body by 
which we breathe :) and there it meets the blood, 
wiiich also goes to the lungs, from the heart. The 
air causes some change in the blood, which, after 
being thus changed, goes back again to the heart, 
and is sent to all parts of the body. If the blood 
did not receive this change from the air, it would 
not nourish, and give life to, all the parts of the body, 
as it does. 

The heart and the lungs are very curiously made, 
and so are the arteries, which, like tubes, carry the 
blood all over the body, from the heart ; and the 
veins, which, like tubes, also, carry it back again. 
You know, when the heart ceases to beat, and the 
lungs to breathe, a person dies. 

R. Do explain to me, mother, how the heart 
and lungs are made ; as you did, about the muscles 
and nerves. 

M. 1 intend to do it, at some future time, my 
son, and to show you all the pictures which are ne- 
cessary to your understanding it. 

At present, it will be enough for you to know, 
that the lungs are made on purpose to breathe with, 
and that the heart is made on purpose to send the 
blood to the lungs, and after the blood has received 



234 



THE YOUTH ? S BOOK 



its change there, to send it throughout the whole 
body. 

The lungs would be of no use without the heart, 
nor the heart, without the lungs ; and neither 
would be of any use, if there was no air for the 
lungs to breathe, or no blood to be prepared by the 
air, to give nourishment and life to the whole body. 

The air is just what is needed for the lungs to 
breathe, and the lungs are made exactly to breathe 
the air. 

Here is another striking instance of design, con- 
trivance, and skill, in thus making one thing suit 
another, which is called adaptation. 

R. Do fishes breathe, mother ? 

M. They do, my son. They breathe with their 
gills. 

R, But how can they breathe air, when they 
are under the water ? 

M. The water is drawn in at the mouth of the 
fish, and sent to the gills, where a certain portion 
of air which is in the water, changes the blood, 
which is also sent to the gills, from the heart. 

R. The gills, then, mother, are the lungs of 
fishes. 

M. They are so, my son ; and the leaves of 
trees and plants, are their lungs, by which they 
derive from the air something which is necessary 



0Z\ NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



435 



for their growth and life. Plants, as well as ani- 
mals, cannot live without air. 

R. Have little insects lungs, mother ? 

M. They have not, my son, any lungs which 
are like those of men, beasts, birds, or fishes. But 
there are tubes, or wind-pipes, in some insects, 
standing out from different parts of their body, 
through which they breathe. In others, as is the 
the case in many caterpillars, there are small holes 
along the sides, through which the air passes. 

R. Well, there is plenty of air, mother, for all 
the animals and plants. 

Iff. There is so, Robert. The earth, which, 
you know, is a great ball, is entirely surrounded 
with air ; and all this air is called the atmosphere. 
It has weight ; and the whole atmosphere presses 
on the surface of the earth with as much force, as 
water would, if it was all round the earth, to the 
height of thirty four feet. 

R. How much heavier is water than air, mo- 
ther ? 

M. About eight hundred times. But there are 
some other things about the air, that show how 
wonderfully it is adapted to certain parts of our 
body, which I wish to explain to you. 

You know, we hear sounds through the ear. 
Inside of the ear, there is a thin skin, called the 
drum of the ear, with four little bones near it, so 



236 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



made, that when the drum of the ear vibrates, all 
the bones are put in motion. 

R. Mother, what does vibrate, mean ? 

M. See, 1 am going to stick my penknife, a 
little way, into this piece of wood, so that it will 
stand up straight. Now, I will strike the top of 
the knife with my finger. 

You see, how the knife moves quickly back and 
forth. It vibrates. 

When you strike the top of a drum, it vibrates, 
and so does the little drum of the ear. 

R. But what strikes the drum of the ear, mo- 
ther ? 

M. The air. When the clapper of a bell 
strikes against the side of it, the bell has a great 
many quick vibrations. These vibrations of the 
bell, make vibrations in the air around it ; and 
these make other vibrations, and these, still wider 
ones ; just as a stone, thrown into smooth water, 
puts the water in motion, and makes a little circle 
round it, and this circle makes a larger one, and 
this one still larger, till the water is put in motion 
for a great distance, and strikes against the little 
plant that is growing in the w r ater, near the oppo- 
site shore, mid puts it in motion. 

So the vibrations of the air, which the vibra- 
tions of the bell cause, at last strike against the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



237 



drum of the ear, and put it in motion, and it vi- 
brates. 

This vibration of the drum of the ear, makes the 
four little bones vibrate. 

The vibrations of these bones put a icatery fluid 
in motion, which is in a hollow place, back of the 
drum of the ear. 

The vibrations of the watery fluid, somehow or 
other, affect the end oj a nerve ; and this nerve, 
which goes to the brain, carries to it the sensation 
of sound, — and we hear. 

R. If you had not told me, mother, 1 am sure, I 
should not have thought, that there were so many 
curious parts in my ear, and that so much must be 
done, before I can hear a single sound. 

M. Well, my son, what will the atheist say, to 
all that I have told you about breathing and 
hearing ? 

Did the air happen to have just such parts, that, 
if it can be made to meet the blood which flows 
I through our whole body, it will cause just that 
change in the blood, which is absolutely necessary 
to nourish the body, and keep it alive ? 

And did the heart happen to come together just 
so, as to form a curious kind of machine, and, every 
time that the blood is brought back to it by the 
veins, to send it to the lungs to meet the air, and, 
after it comes back again, changed by the air, to 
20 



238 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



send it all over the body, to nourish it, and keep it 
alive ? 

And did the heart happen to be so powerful a 
machine, that it will keep going, and never get out 
of order, for seventy or eighty years, when a person 
lives so long ; and do this, too, although it works 
very hard, all the while, day and night ? 

For the heart contracts, and so forces the blood 
out of it, four thousand five hundred times, in one 
hour. You know you can feel it beat, every time 
that it contracts. 

All the blood that is in the body of a grown per- 
son, of common size, weighs about thirty-three 
pounds, and all this passes through the heart, and 
is sent all over the body, nearly twenty-three times 
in one hour, or once, in a little more than every 
two minutes and a half. Did chance make this 
wonderful heart ? 

Then the lungs happened to be just suited, both 
to the heart and to the air, so as to bring the air and 
the blood together, in just the proper quantity, and 
just at the right time, and just often enough* It 
would not do for the lungs to go too fast for the 
heart ; nor the heart too fast for the lungs. To 
keep the body in good health, their motions must be 
proportioned to each other. 

And did chance make all those parts of the heart, 
the lungs, and the air ; and make them all with the 



ON KATURAL THEOLOGY. 



239 



right proportions ; and put each together, so as to 
act without any irregularity or confusion ; and set, 
and keep them, in motion, so as to go exactly right ; 
and thus adapt them to each other ? 

R. Mother, I think, again, of the text of scrip- 
ture which you repeated to me. 

The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God. 

M. I am sure, my son, that you will never be 
guilty of such folly, after all the proofs which I 
have given you of the being, the wisdom, the pow- 
er, and the goodness of God. And if, when you 
grow up, you meet with any one so foolish and 
wicked, as to doubt, whether there is a God, you 
will be able to give him the proofs, that there is, 
indeed, a great and good Being who made him, and 
all other beings and things, and, perhaps you may 
be able to convince him of this, and, with the bles- 
sing of God, help to make him a better, and a hap- 
pier, man. 

R. I am sure, mother, I will try to do so, if 1 
ever meet with such a person. 

M. I have some other things to tell you about 
the air, Robert, which will still further show you, 
how admirably it is adapted to the convenience 
and comfort of man. 

R. There seems, mother, to be as much that 
is curious and wonderful about the adaptation of 



240 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



things to each other, as there is about what you 
told me of their proportion to each other. 

M. There is, indeed, and the air is one striking 
instance of it. 

If it were not for the air, we could not see dif- 
ferent objects as well as we do. 

R. Why not, mother ? Is it not the sun which 
gives us light ? I do not see how the air can make 
any difference in that light. 

M. Did you ever take a looking-glass, Robert, 
and hold it so that the sun can shine upon it ; and 
then turn it, so that the shining of the sun upon it, 
may be cast on the wall of the room ? 

R. I have, mother, and you know, you can 
make the bright spot move about, all sorts of ways, 
on the wall. 

M. Well, we say, that the looking-glass reflects 
the light of the sun, which shines upon it, on to the 
wall. 

Now, suppose, there is a room shut up so tight, 
that it is quite dark in all parts of it, except some 
very little streams of light, that come through a 
few holes in the window-shutter, as big as the head 
of a pin. 

That would not give light enough, for you to see 
to do any thing in the room. 

Suppose, you could place several looking-glasses, 
so as to reflect these streams of light, in different 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



241 



directions ; and, then, other looking-glasses, to re- 
flect again the light coming from the first ; and, 
then, still more, to keep reflecting the light, in all 
possible ways ; this would scatter the light, so com- 
pletely, into all parts of the room, and upon all the 
things in it, that you could see quite well. 

The air does something exactly like this. It is 
made up of millions and millions of little particles, 
smaller, a great deal smaller, than the point of a 
pin, — which reflect the light, from one to another, 
in all possible ways, and on all the things that we 
see, and throughout all places, however large. If 
the air had not th is power of reflecting ligh t, we 
could see nothing, only those things on which the 
sun shines directly ; all other things and places 
would be in the dark. 

All the things, too, which we did see, would be 
bright, and many of them dazzling, in the midst of 
dark objects around them. How different this 
would be, from the soft and pleasant light, which is 
now reflected by the air upon all those objects on 
which the sun does not shine directly. What beau- 
tiful colours the landscape has, from this mixture 
of brighter and softer light. So that the air is 
adapted, you see, not only to scatter light enough 
in all directions, to enable us to do what is neces- 
sary to be done ; but it furnishes us, also, with a 
constant source of enjoyment in beholding beauti- 

20* 



242 



THE YOUTH'S BOOS 



fill tints, and odours, and shades, in all the objects 
around us. 

If I had time, I could show you how the differ- 
ent parts of the eye are made, and put together, so 
as to receive the light reflected to it from different 
objects / and to carry this light on the back part of 
the eye ; and, there, to form a most curious little 
picture of the things at which we are looking, ex- 
actly like them, only thousands of times smaller ; 
and, then, somehow or other, to have this little 
picture affect a nerve, and this nerve affect the 
brain, and thus enable us to see. 

R. Mother, I do wish to have the different 
parts of the eye explained to me. 

M. I hope to be able to do it, my son, before a 
great while, but I cannot do it now. I will tell 
you, however, some few things more about seeing, 
before we go. 

I have shown you, how the air reflects the light, 
in all directions, and how necessary this is for our 
convenience, and how much it contributes to our 
enjoyment. The air is admirably adapted to this 
purpose. 

But light, also, is most curiously made ; so as to 
be reflected by the air, and received by the eye. 
You know, how very small the particles of air are, 
that reflect the light ; and how small the little hole 
is, in the front of the eye, that receives them ; and 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



243 



how small the little picture is, on the back part of 
the eye, which affects the nerve and the brain, and 
enables us to see. Now the particles of light are 
proportioned to all this, and to the swiftness with 
which they move, so as to enable us quickly to see 
things, even at a very great distance. 

Light goes at the rate of 195,000 miles in one 
second of time, w T hich is faster than a cannon ball 
goes, by one million, five hundred, and fifty thou- 
sand times. The sun is ninety-five millions of 
miles from the earth, and yet light comes to us 
from the sun, in eight minutes, and thirteen 
seconds. 

R. Mother, I cannot think, how quick light 
goes. 

M. That is true, my son, and we cannot think 
how very, very small the particles of light are. If 
they were larger than they are, they would injure 
us very much. 

R. How so, mother ? 

M. If I should toss this thimble very gently 
against your face, would it hurt you ? 

R. I do not think it would ; but it would hurt 
me a good deal, if you should throw it, as hard as 
you could. 

M. So would, even the head of a pin, if I should 
throw it as hard as I could, into your eye ; and if 
it was shot from a gun, it would destroy the sight 



244 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



of your eye, and might, perhaps, kill you, Think, 
then, how small, how very, very, very small the 
particles of light must be, so as not to hurt the eye, 
when they strike it, coming as quick as they do, all 
the way, from the sun ! 

If a million of the particles of light, all put toge- 
ther, were as large as a small grain of sand, it 
would be as dangerous to have them strike the 
eye, as it would be to have a quantity of sand fired 
straight into the eye from a cannon. 

Now think of all these things ; how wonderfully 
the air is made to reflect light ; and the eye, to 
receive the light, and enable us to see. Think, too, 
how the light itself is made, with its very small 
particles, so as to be easily reflected by the little 
particles of the air, like so many little looking- 
glasses. Think, with what amazing quickness, 
light comes from distant objects, so as to give us 
the sight of them, without any pain or injury, be- 
cause its particles are so small, that we cannot 
think how small they are ! 

What a wonderful adaptation of different things 
to each other ! 

What a wonderful effect is produced by this 
adaptation ; — our seeing and knowing, not only 
what is near us, but objects, also, at a great dis- 
tance. We can see the sun, which is 95,000,000 
miles from the earth ; — and we can see a fixed star, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY 



245 



(another sun, for other worlds,) which is more 
than 5,000,000,000,000 miles from the earth ! 

In all this, how wonderfully God shows us His 
infinite power and wisdom ; and His great good- 
ness, too, in doing it all, for the convenience, and 
comfort, of man ! 



CONCLUSION. 

Mrs. Stanhope thought somewhat of explaining 
to Robert, about the sun, and earth, and moon, and 
stars, and thus showing him the wonderful power 
of God, as well as His great wisdom and goodness, 
in the size, and motions, of the heavenly bodies. 

But she thought, on the whole, that it would be 
better to wait, till he grew a little older, when he 
would be able to understand it much better. 

She expected, too, the next day, to ride with 
him to his aunt's, where she intended to stay two 
or three weeks ; so she did not talk with Robert, 
any more, at that time, about the wisdom, power, 
and goodness of God, as shown to us, in the beings, 
and things, which He has made, except that, in the 
evening, just before he went to bed, she had the 
following, short conversation with him. 



Mother. I hope, my son, that you will re- 
member all that I have been telling you, for seve- 



246 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



ral days past, — to prove to you that there is a God, 
and that He is a Being of infinite power, wisdom, 
and goodness. 

Robert. I am sure, mother, that 1 shall never 
forget it. It has been, both, so entertaining, and 
instructive, to me. 

M. As you gain more knowledge, Robert, 
of the different beings, and things, which God has 
made, you will gain, also, more and more proofs 
of His existence, and of His amazing power, wis- 
dom, and goodness. 

You will, if you live, pursue many studies, and 
read many books, in which not even the name of 
God will be mentioned ; although these studies, 
and these books, will be full of instances of the 
most wonderful design, contrivance, and skill, and 
of the most surprising power, wisdom, and good- 
ness, of God. 

It is sad to see that it is so, and that men love so 
little to think, and to converse, and to write, about 
God, — that great and good Being, who made us, 
and who made so many things for our improve- 
ment and happiness, — and who wishes so much, 
that we should all love and obey Him, and be pre- 
pared, when we die, to go and live w r ith Him, 
and be happy in Heaven, forever. 

But in all your studies, and in all your reading, 
I hope, you will mark those things very particu- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



247 



larly, which show you the design, contrivance, and 
skill, — the power, wisdom, and goodness, of God ; 
and stop, and think of Him, with reverence, and awe ; 
with gratitude, and love. 

Let it sink deep into your soul, and form a part of 
your daily thoughts and feelings, — how much kind, 
ness God has shown, and is still showing you ; how 
many sources of comfort, and of enjoyment, He 
gives you ; how it grieves Him, to see you think, or 
feel, or act wrong ; how He loves to see you be good 
and do good, that you may go, after death, to be 
with Him forever. — continually to improve in 
knowledge, in holiness, and in happiness. 

Remember, too, with the liveliest feelings of 
thankfulness, that God has given you another and 
a brighter light, to guide you in the way to Heaven, 
than that which shines upon you, from the works 
of His hand, — from the beings and the things which 
He has made. 

From these you may learn His amazing power, 
and wisdom, and goodness. But you cannot learn 
from them, a great deal that it is very important for 
you to know about God, and your soul, and whither 
yov will go, and what you trill be and do, after 
death. 

God has been very kind, in giving you another 
and a brighter light, to guide you into the know- 
ledge of these important things. 



248 the youth's eook on natural theology. 

He has given you the Bible. This holy Book, 
which good men wrote, just as God directed them 
to write it, tells you all that it is necessary for you 
to know, with regard to God, and your soul, and 
your existence after death. The more you study 
it, the wiser you will grow. The more you love 
and obey it, the better, and the happier, you will be. 

While you form the habit, then, of seeing, and 
admiring, and loving God, as you notice the work- 
manship of His hand, in the beings, and things, 
which He has made ; form the habit, also, of daily 
going to your Bible, that you may be taught of 
God, — that you may hear Him, telling you, as a 
kind Father, what you must do to gain His ever- 
lasting friendship, and what you must not do, that 
you may avoid the greatest of all evils, His fearful 
displeasure. 

Thus, my dear son, I earnestly pray, that you 
may be taught of God, both from the things which 
He has made, and from the Book which He has 
given you, and be prepared to be useful, respecta- 
ble, and happy in this world, and, after death, to 
enjoy the unspeakable bliss of that Heaven, which 
will never, never end.— Good night. 

R. Good night, my dear mother ; I thank you, 
very much, for all the good instruction, and kind 
advice, which you have given me. 



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